What It Means To Be A Hero
by Kath33
Summary: Anna and Warren have finally graduated from Sky High and are looking forward to saving the world as Heroes. But they'll soon realize that their dreams are easier said than done. This is the final installment of the 'With Enemies Like These' series.
1. Chapter 1

It's been a long time coming, but the first chapter's finally here. Many thanks to **arnold the female purple pygmy puff** for betaing my story. You're a star!

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sky High, or any of its canon characters.**

**Chapter One- Jenga and Hero Support**

Graduation.

It came with the usual fanfare- nauseating anxiety, plastered smiles and repeated thanks to everyone's congratulatory remarks. I clutched the rolled up piece of paper that told the world I could now live my dream, as if I were drowning and it was the only thing that could save me.

Not a good way to begin life as a Super-Hero.

But I got through the ceremony and even the graduation party that came afterward. Warren and I sat on the benches of the school gym (which had now been transformed into a festive haven) in uncomfortable formal wear, watching the graduating class of Sky High- the girls clutching each other and tearfully promising to keep in touch; the boys generally making asses out of themselves.

After four long years and everything that had happened during that time… it was over. We'd left Sky High, but took the memories with us. Many had left Maxville to start their heroic lives in other parts of the world. I sometimes dreamt when I was younger what it would be like to start over in a new place. In the end though, I knew that leaving would be impossible. I'd lost too much at the expense of this city, become too closely intertwined with its moral shades of gray. I would stay. Not out of some sense of allegiance, but because I truly felt I had no other choice-

"Are you playing or what?"

I snapped back to the present. Warren was sitting across from me, eyebrows raised in expectancy.

"Right. Um…" I scanned the tower of wooden blocks and finally selected a center block near the top. It came out easily enough. The tower remained upright. I placed it at the top and waited for Warren to make his move.

Because of a greater Hero to Hero-Support ratio this year, Heroes were not immediately assigned to their Hero-Support on Graduation Day. As a result, we had to wait several days for a call from the school telling us if we were going to receive Hero Support this year and if so, who it would be.

In the meantime Warren and I tried to keep ourselves busy. We were in a local park, lazily working our way through our second game of Jenga. It was a warm June day and a good breeze blew. After the winter we'd had, I welcomed the good weather.

It had been only two months since the death of Lisa Kline (and subsequently Jana Vega). Two months since I saw my cousin Paul…who had died himself several months before. The only person who had survived the vengeful attempt was Nicole Barnes. She was currently in Maxville's Youth Detainment Center for Super Teens, awaiting trial.

Amazing how much could happen in less than a year.

But I didn't want to think about that now. The sun was high, school was over and I was spending a nice afternoon with Warren, despite our parents' orders to give each other a wide distance. It had all stemmed from a stupid argument between my father and Warren's mother years ago and then later, a physical fight between my dad and Warren's father, Barron Battle. We could've cared less about the whole thing though. It was a pointless feud that had happened too long ago to matter, and had nothing to do with either of us.

"So?" I asked, chewing on the tip of my thumb.

"So…what?" Warren asked distractedly as he carefully pulled out a block and placed it at the top.

"_So_… what now? I mean, you're finally out of Sky High. What are you going to do?"

Warren looked at me over the tower of blocks. "I'm going to fight crime," he said slowly, as if I were a two year-old.

I rolled my eyes. "You know what I mean. You have to do something when you're off the clock. What's your cover going to be?"

His wry grin faded. Warren cleared his throat and shrugged a little too nonchalantly. "I don't know. I was thinking…college, or something." He pulled out another block. The tower wobbled and we paused anxiously. It remained standing.

"College?" I asked as soon as I resumed breathing. I made my play.

"What's wrong with that?" I could almost feel the defensiveness radiating off of him.

"Nothing. I think it's a great idea, actually. What are you going to study?"

He paused in mid-reach and looked up at me. "Still working on that. But I have time." He rested his block at the top and waited. "What about you?"

"Well, Dad pulled some strings and got me a paid internship at a detective agency. He says if I do a good enough job, they'll hire me full time after six months." I couldn't help the sarcasm that crept into my voice.

Warren gave me one of those intense searching looks that always made me glance away uncomfortably. "Well you sound really excited about it."

"It's a good job," I said quickly, not wanting to sound completely ungrateful.

"But it's not what you want to do."

I hesitated before admitting, "No, not really."

Warren leaned forward slightly. "What _do_ you want to do?"

My gaze slipped downward to the game we were playing. "Honestly, I don't know. It's all been about being a Hero, you know? And with everything that's happened … I've never really had time to think about doing anything else."

"Maybe now's a good time to start."

I thought about what he said as I returned to the tower of blocks that stood precariously between us. Quietly, I pulled one out.

The whole tower collapsed.

I frowned at it. Warren grinned.

"Best two out of three?" I suggested.

xxxxxxxxxxx

I got home later that afternoon and heard my parents talking in the kitchen.

"Hey guys, I'm home!" I called out.

"Anna could you come in here for a minute? We have to talk." It was my mother that said it.

Paranoia immediately kicked in. Did they know where I'd been?

I walked into the kitchen and found my mom and dad sitting at the table.

"What's up?" I asked nervously.

"Come here," Dad said, pulling out a chair. He was beaming. "Have a seat."

"We want to show you something," Mom added.

As I took a seat at the table, I looked at them curiously. I had rarely seen them so excited.

My mother pushed something across the table, and I picked it up.

It was a pamphlet advertising laser surgery for scar removal. There were several 'before and after' pictures, as well as a variety of payment options.

"I called Dr. Fort," I heard my mother say, "and he says our insurance will cover it. It might not remove the appearance of them completely, but it's worth a try, right?"

I stared the glossy folded paper, stupidly not connecting the dots at first. Then in a flash, my hand flew to my face.

"So when do you want to set up the appointment?" Dad asked.

I was silent for several seconds. Then I pushed the pamphlet back across the table. "I don't."

My father blinked at me. "What?"

"I'm not doing it, Dad."

Confusion and surprise from them both. "Annie, why not?"

"If you're scared, you don't have to be." My mother said soothingly. "You'll get an anesthetic, and-"

"I said I'm not doing it!"

I was on my feet before I was even aware of it, furious and not knowing why. But I couldn't seem to help it. It shocked me almost as much as it did them.

My outburst shut them up pretty quickly. For a long while they looked at me as if they had no idea who I was.

My mother spoke first. "Anna, I don't understand. We thought you'd be _happy_."

It was the expression on her face that made my anger vanish just as quickly as it had flared up. I closed my eyes and sat down, feeling embarrassed. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-" I sighed. "Sorry, but I can't do this."

There were several seconds of silence. Then quietly, my father said, "Okay Annie. You don't have to get the procedure done if you don't want to. But … I don't understand."

I bit my lip, staring at the table. I didn't know what to say to them. For months my face had been a constant reminder of what I'd been through and what I'd lost. Every time I looked into the mirror a small part of me relived that terrible night. I hated my scars. And yet, I couldn't give them up.

Before I could try to explain any of this however, the phone rang.

"I'll get it," I said quickly, desperate to get out of there.

In the living room, I picked up the phone.

"Hello?"

"Hi, this is Miss Anna Arrian?"

"Uh, yeah."

"This is Nora Cooper of the Maxville Super Hero Division. I'm calling to inform you that Hero Support has been assigned to you. Do you have a pen?"

"Yeah- yes, I do!" I said, as I snatched the pen and pad that always lay beside the phone. My heart was racing. This was it. It was finally happening.

I took down the information carefully, and then thanked her before hanging up. My dad came into the room.

"Annie? Who was that?"

I turned to him, the past few minutes temporarily forgotten. "They called, Dad. I've been assigned."

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

My Hero Support lived in the heart of Maxville's metropolitan area. The neighborhood was fairly busy. Some middle-school aged kids were playing hockey in the street, heedless of the honking cars and angry shouting.

I glanced down at the paper in my hand, which contained the name and address I was looking for. The street was correct; it should only be a couple of houses down. There it was, number nineteen: A small brick stone house near the end of the street. I walked up to the front door, trying to feel calm.

Loud music blared from somewhere within. I rang the bell several times, but no one answered. Unable to stand the suspense any longer, I knocked on the door as hard as I could without actually breaking it down. Finally, the door opened.

An olive-skinned Asian woman stood there, regarding me with polite uncertainty. "Good evening."

"Yes, good evening," I said, aware of how breathless I sounded. "My name's Anna Arrian. I'm here to see… Evelyn Domagas?" I prayed I pronounced the last name right.

The woman's face lit up. "Oh! Are you from…her school?" she asked in a low voice.

Relieved, I nodded.

"Please come in!" she said excitedly, stepping back.

"Thank you."

Once inside, I took off my light jacket and gave a brief look around. The house was well decorated with pictures and artifacts, bowls of potpourri and vases of flowers. If it weren't arranged the way it was, the place would have looked cluttered. But it was all neat and cozy. The music still blared out from somewhere upstairs.

The woman seemed more flustered than I was. "I'm sorry, I never introduced myself. I'm Olivia Domagas, her mother." She shook my hand hastily and before I could reply she continued, "But enough of that! You must be eager to see Evie. I mean Evelyn, I call her Evie… Evie! Come down here! And tell your brother to lower that music!

Several seconds later I heard the _thump thump thump _of someone racing down the stairs. And then a girl came into view. She was kind of short, had straight black hair and even blacker eyes, which widened in interest when she saw me. Stopping a few feet away from me, she smiled shyly.

I cleared my throat with some effort, frantic to get this moment over and done with. "Ah…hi. I'm Anna. We've been assigned to work together."

My words seemed to do the trick. She stepped forward quickly, all hesitation forgotten and gave me a brief once-over. Then without warning, she pulled me into a hug that threatened to cut off my circulation.

"Uh- well... okay-" I stammered, still in the throes of the embrace that would not quit.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

To say that Evelyn was talkative would have been a major understatement. She chattered away about how much she'd been looking forward to finally becoming certified Hero Support and her plans to safeguard the city; how her mother used to be a Hero before her husband (Evie's dad) died from a sudden heart attack when Evie was just three years old. Now her mother worked as a nurse in a senior citizen home. Evie went on about her grandfather who had been a well-known Super Hero in Manila, and how awesome it would be when we'd finally save the world ourselves-

"Um, Evelyn?" I broke in at last. We were sitting in her kitchen nursing glasses of orange juice and I thought it best to stop her before she settled into part two of her life story.

"You can call me Evie. Everyone else does," she said, happily picking at what looked like a mustard stain on her red blouse.

"Okay, uh…Evie."

"That's me."

"I don't really want to sound condescending or anything, but… I'm kind of assuming you know what my power is-"

"Of course I do! I've seen you in Save the Citizen. Very awesome by the way."

"Thanks. So with that in mind… what exactly is _your_ power?"

Her smile faltered, just for a second. "Oh, that. Well, I create hemoglobin based sub-atomic particles for the purpose of concealment."

I stared at her, nonplussed. "Could I get the layman's term for that?"

"I create dust."

"Dust?"

"Red dust to be exact. From my blood."

I blinked at her, determined to keep the smile on my face even if it killed me. "Oh. That's cool."

"Yeah." She grinned.

Someone came into the room then. It was a boy who looked a lot like Evelyn. His hair was short and spiky though, and it stuck out in all directions. Making a beeline for the refrigerator, he didn't seem to notice either of us.

Evie narrowed her eyes at him. "My brother has no manners at all," she muttered. Picking up an orange from the bowl of fruit that lay nearby, she threw it neatly at him. It hit him squarely in the shoulder.

"Ow!" he cried, whirling around angrily. "What's your damage Evelyn?"

"Can't you see we have a guest?" she snapped.

He paused and stood up straighter, looking at me for the first time.

"Hey, I know you," he said at last.

"I'm Anna. From...school."

"I'm Evan. You Evie's Hero?"

"Yeah."

"Cool," he said. To Evelyn he added, "You throw stuff at me one more time and I'll-"

"You'll what, let me beat you up again? Get lost!"

He flushed with embarrassment, glancing at me. "Stop telling me what to do!"

Evie rolled her eyes. "Or what?" she challenged.

I glanced down at my juice uncomfortably. Was this normal? I wondered. Being an only child sheltered me from a fair share of petty arguments and Paul was the closest thing I'd ever had to a sibling. We'd had our disagreements sure, but we never fought over silly stuff like this. Maybe they'd had a fight earlier. Somehow though, I didn't think so.

Ignoring his sister, Evan told me, "She's just showing off for you."

"I am not!"

"What she _fails to realize_," he went on, "is that she's not the only one expecting their Hero today."

That stopped Evie short. "Really?"

"Yes. And ten bucks says my Hero's cooler than yours. No offense Anna," he added to me.

"None taken," I told him honestly.

Evie turned and looked me up and down, as if considering his bet. "You're on," she decided at last. I felt I should have been a little offended at this exchange but truthfully, I was kind of fascinated by the whole thing.

As if on cue, the doorbell rang. Evan jumped a little, his eyes alight. "Sweet!" he said, as he ran out of the kitchen. Equally curious, Evie and I followed him. We got there just in time to see Evan take a deep breath and open the door.

There on the front step stood Warren Peace.

"I guess this is the Domagas residence," he said, as soon as he saw me.

"Damn," Evie muttered, shoving her hand into her pocket and pulling out a crumpled ten dollar bill.

Evan snatched the money, grinning smugly.


	2. Fathers

Thanks guys for the reviews! I appreciate them all. And many thanks to **arnold the female purple pygmy puff** for her beta work!

Hope you enjoy this chapter.

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sky High, or any of its canon characters.**

**Chapter Two- Fathers**

We stared at Warren, none of us saying a word. He stared right back at us. Finally after a while, Warren offered dryly, "So… how long are we gonna do this?"

"Oh! Sorry- come on in," Evan said, standing back so Warren could enter. "I'm Evan, by the way. This is my sister, Evelyn."

"Hey," Warren said to her.

"Hi," she said shortly, clearly miffed about losing to her brother.

Evan glared at her before adding, "And this is-"

"Anna," he cut in, addressing me. "So you've been paired up with Evelyn."

"Surprise, surprise," I said weakly.

Evan spoke up almost hesitantly. "Well I guess we can go into the living room."

"Sure," Warren said, shrugging.

When they left Evie turned back to me. "So."

"So," I echoed expectantly.

"Evan got the Pyro. How about that?"

"Uh…."

"Never mind. Hey, do you like soup?"

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

About an hour later, Warren and I were saying our goodbyes to Evie and Evan. They not-so-subtly fought for domination of the doorway, which Evie quickly won. She called out triumphantly, "Looking forward to working with you!"

I gave a little wave, trying not to cringe.

We stepped into the humid night. I could almost taste the ozone in the air- a storm wasn't too far off. Even as I thought this, I heard thunder rumble in the distance.

So what do you think of the twins?" Warren asked as we walked.

I gave him a surprised look. "They're twins?"

"Yeah. You didn't know?"

I shook my head. It figured.

"Well, I don't know much about Evan, but… Evie's a bit of a handful," I said truthfully. "She seems nice though. Think you and Evan'll work out okay?"

"Looks like it. He knows his way around Hero tech, I'll give him that. His power though…" He shook his head with an element of uncertainty.

"What? You mean the red dust thing?"

Warren looked at me oddly. "No, I mean the black smoke thing."

"Oh. Right."

We got to the bus stop.

"Hey Anna."

"Hmm?"

"What exactly was the ten dollars about?"

x

x

x

x

x

x

It rained almost steadily for two weeks. Maxville became a drenched doppelganger of itself, where drains overflowed and parts of the city were forced to slow down, if not halt altogether. But life went on despite the wicked conditions. My Hero costume would be arriving soon, something I was really looking forward to. Mom and Dad mercifully didn't bring up the subject of scar removal again, though they did leave the pamphlet on my bed. I tossed it into a drawer and promptly forgot about it.

In the meantime, I got into Hero mode. Dad had been working on my Secret Headquarters, which used to be his back when he was on active duty. It was located on the other side of Maxville, in a dilapidated-looking, graffiti-covered "abandoned" warehouse. I think Dad chose the area because it had been a former industrial district and was now an almost deserted neighborhood. Nothing spectacular, but it got the job done.

My father and I had spent the last couple of weeks updating basic technological software in the main database among other things. On a few occasions he brought in Evelyn to show her the ropes. She was completely star-struck, and looked as if she was in seventh heaven as he gave her the specific instructions on mainframe upkeep. It certainly stroked Dad's ego being on the receiving end of that kind of admiration.

"Well… I think I'm done here," Dad said one day as he put a last shine on my costume display case. There was a finality in the way he spoke, like a performer saying his last words before the curtains closed. He looked resigned, in every sense of the word.

It threw me off guard and I didn't know what to say. "Dad…"

"Oh, almost forgot," he said suddenly, trying to kill the sad moment before it could properly manifest. He walked over to the side of the room where a few remaining boxes were. Opening one of them, he drew out something large covered in a clean white cloth. He pulled it away. There in his hands was a gleaming silver shield. It was my father's shield, the one from which he'd adopted his Super Hero name. His entire persona was crafted from it and it was his ultimate prized possession.

And he was giving it to me.

"Take care of this, kid. It's made from specially treated titanium so it won't scratch easily but believe me, the evil bastards will try. You got that?"

I nodded, unable to speak.

"Good," he said gruffly.

We stood there, looking everywhere but at each other. But this wasn't new. Our relationship had become punctuated with awkward silences and deep tension over the last few months. The changes that had happened in such a short time- Paul's death; my new Hero status; Warren's presence- made sure of that. We used to share things, like Saturday trips to the Farmer's Market or watching bad late-night TV, sneaking subtle glances at each other to see who would fall asleep first. Those occasions became fewer and farther between, then they stopped altogether. Helplessly I watched what we had in common become less and less common, and now here in that room was the last thread that connected us being cut.

"You'll be all right," he told me as if he could read my thoughts. "You'll make mistakes now and then, but we all do. Just remember to keep your head and look out for others, and…" he sighed heavily, running a hand over his face. "You'll be okay, Annie. You'll be okay."

Like he was trying to convince himself.

My father turned away and picked up the last box with some visible effort, courtesy of Barron Battle's inflicted injury all those years ago. He looked so much older in that moment- a shadow of the dashing costumed Super Hero that saved the city one crisis at a time and still came home in time to read me a story before bed.

When did Dad become so…fragile?

He walked out of the building, where I knew he'd be waiting for me in the car. And I stood there, amidst the whirring and beeping and clicking of the various forms of Hero tech, looking around at the large room where over a decade of heroic history had taken place. Walls had been painted over, archives updated, artifacts and mementos removed to make way for new ones.

I looked down at the silver shield I now cradled in my arms, the thing I'd looked on as a child as something magical. Now it was the blindingly bright weight of change. I set it down carefully in the nearest empty display case and left the building.

I tried not to run.

xxxxxxxxx

Warren and I didn't see other for a while, too caught up with our own lives. But we talked on the phone regularly enough. Evan was helping him set things up in their own headquarters. Also, Warren had decided upon a Business major at Maxville City University. I thought that was pretty fantastic. When he asked me if I'd considered yet what I wanted to do as my cover, I told him I hadn't. I was forced to one day.

My father was driving me to my job at Maxville's Value Mart. He and my mother were going to catch a movie and have an early dinner, then pick me up from work. Dad still didn't trust me to go home on my own, since he'd discovered I'd been riding around with Warren. Mom was in the front seat, contentedly knitting what looked like a large sock.

"I called Mr. Berkley," he commented as he stopped at a red light, peering through the rain.

"Oh?" I offered, trying to sound enthusiastic.

"Yeah. He said you can start the first week in September. It won't be much, just some light type-work, making coffee and running errands, stuff like that. But you keep at it-"

"And I'll be going places," I repeated the mantra Dad had been pitching for months.

He glanced at me in the rearview mirror, eyes narrowed. "What's wrong Annie? Thought you wanted to get out of the grocery store."

"I do. It's just…"

"Just what?"

"Nothing."

My parents exchanged a glance. Mom stopped in mid-stitch and turned around to look at me. "Honey, if there's something on your mind, you can tell us. You know that."

We were almost to the supermarket. When Dad turned the corner and pulled up by the curb, I couldn't take it anymore. I finally blurted out, "I don't want to work for Mr. Berkley. I don't want to work at a detective agency _at all_."

And with that I threw the car door open, stepped out into the rain (stupidly forgetting the umbrella that was right next to me) and walked into the supermarket.

I tried to pretend I didn't notice my dad's shocked expression; that there wouldn't be hell to pay when I got home; that I didn't have to get my act together and figure out what the heck I wanted to do with my life. Hero work was great and all, but it didn't pay the bills. Not unless you got a merchandising deal (which was rare and only happened to the great ones), or you've survived to be fifty-five and could officially retire and receive Hero's Pension.

I spent two hours price-tagging and stocking four big shipments of canned goods, then another hour doing inventory on eggs. When my shift was over, I almost didn't want to leave the store. I knew what was waiting for me outside.

My father was quiet when I got into the car. Mom wasn't there. The rain had lightened to a slight drizzle, but thunder still rumbled every now and again.

Dad didn't start the ignition. He just sat there, staring through the windshield as if there was something on the hood of his car that had no right being there.

"Dropped your mother home," he explained. "I wanted to talk to you alone."

After a full minute had passed and we were no closer to talking, I realized the seriousness of what I'd said. I ventured, "Dad?"

"What's happened Annie?" he asked faintly, like he was unsure of his own voice.

"What...what do you mean?"

"We used to talk. All the time. You'd tell me about your day, you wouldn't miss a detail. If you were upset, or angry, or scared… the first thing you'd do is come running to me. What happened to that?"

_What happened?_ I didn't know. One day I confided in him freely in a way I never could with Mom, and the next…I discovered that he didn't have all the answers as I'd once believed.

"I'm sorry. I should have talked to you about the job earlier. I just didn't know how."

Dad nodded. "I guess I'll call Berkley in the morning, tell him to find another intern."

"I really am sorry."

He shook his head. "I don't want you to be sorry, Annie. I just want you to talk to me again."

Unable to look at him, I just nodded.

"So…what is it?"

"What's what?"

"What do you want to do if not intern?"

There it was. Four hours later and I was no closer to figuring it out. Better to have out with the truth.

"I don't exactly know."

"Oh. Well, that's reassuring."

I shot him a withering look. "Dad."

"You have to have some kind of idea," he insisted. "What do you like to _do_?"

"I don't know," I said truthfully and most unhelpfully.

Dad closed his eyes, shaking his head. I felt useless. I was never big in the hobby department. It was always about becoming a hero and saving the world. Paul was the one who had secondary interests, like his artwork. I'd always liked reading; I wondered absently if that counted as a career choice, but decided not to mention it.

Dad seemed to have given up anyway. He turned on the car, and we pulled off the curb. We didn't speak the rest of the way home.

xxxxxxxxxxxx

Evelyn Domagas was a dramatic eater and didn't care who knew it. She made the most of deli sandwiches, taking them apart with all the meticulous precision of a surgeon and eating the different ingredients one by one. Soup was an event, holding all the potential of a miniature tsunami. And she made sure that Slurpees lived up to their name.

My burger was halfway to my mouth when I noticed her trying to form a perfect square of ketchup on her plate using her knife. "What?" she asked when she saw me staring.

I shook my head slowly.

Evie and I started spending a considerable amount of time together. But it wasn't all business and Hero-related stuff. We also did fun things- watched movies, or went out for meals, or just sat around and talked about nothing at all. Some things that Evie did (like dipping bread into her juice) still took some getting used to. But despite her quirks I liked her a lot. She wasn't pretentious like most of the other girls I knew at Sky High. She spoke her mind and was all for you if she decided that you were a friend worth keeping. Also, she was the first female friend I'd had since I was a little kid. It was refreshing to be able to discuss personal things that I certainly couldn't talk to Warren or my parents about.

"So we start our first patrol in a couple of days," Evie piped up, after lining up her fries one by one on her napkin. "Nervous?"

"A little bit," I admitted. "You?"

"Nah. I have one of the best Super Heroes in the world by my side," she said simply. "What's there to worry about?"

At first I thought she was joking, but one look at her eyes and I realized she wasn't. I gave a little cough and looked at my plate. Evie was just so _open_ about everything.

My phone rang then. Thankfully, I checked the caller ID and grinned.

"Hey Warren."

"Anna, where are you?"

"We're at the burger place on Bolt Avenue. Why?"

"Okay, stay right there, I'll be over in ten minutes."

Then he hung up. He had sounded rather urgent, but not in a way that made me suspect that something was wrong. Confused, I stared at my phone for a second then shrugged, placing it back into my pocket.

"Warren's coming over."

"That's nice. Is my little brother with him?" she asked absently, sucking a smear of ketchup off her thumb.

"Probably." It always made me smile to hear Evie refer to Evan as her "little brother". Evan had made it clear that they were born a little less than a minute apart, and he was convinced that Evie pushed him out of the way just so she would be born first. It was a ridiculous notion of course, but knowing Evie's headstrong nature, I could see where he got the idea.

We were just finishing up our meal, when my phone rang again.

"Come out back," Warren told me.

So we did.

"Oh. My. Shorts," Evie whispered as soon as we stepped out into the parking lot.

I pretty much felt the same way she did, but I gave her an odd look nevertheless. There in the lot was Warren and Evan. But I barely noticed either of them next to the gorgeous black car that was parked beside them.

"Warren," I said quietly, "is this _yours_?"

"It sure as hell isn't Evan's," Evie muttered, not noticing her brother's dirty look.

"Yeah, I guess it's mine now," Warren said. He looked strangely conflicted about that.

"It's beautiful," I said. "Where'd you get it?"

"Oh man," Evan started up excitedly, "You're never gonna believe-"

"Evan," Warren said immediately, and Evan went silent. Warren glanced back at Evie and me with an uncomfortable smile. "My mom just pulled up with it this morning. Called it my 'graduation present'."

"Heck of a present," I commented.

"I'll say," Evie agreed. She glanced at Warren, then at me and cleared her throat. "Well, I think I can go for another Coke. Evan come on," she added, turning back to the restaurant.

"What? Why?"

"You want me to buy you lunch or not? Come _on_."

With the promise of a free meal, Evan didn't need telling twice- he followed her without another word. I knew Evie must have sensed the tension that was coming off Warren in waves and decided to leave us to it. I gave her a grateful look.

When they'd gone, Warren had turned back to the car, arms folded, letting his troubled emotions take over. As for me, two-month old guilt was being brought to the surface. Warren's former car had been utterly demolished in Lisa's first attack against us. We'd crashed into a tree, which had done some considerable damage by itself. But in the end it was I who had powered up in the most epic way possible while still inside the vehicle. Needless to say by the time I was done with it, the only thing the car was good for was scrap metal.

I glanced at Warren. He didn't say anything for awhile, and I realized it was one of _those_ silences. I tried to be tactful.

"So. Your mom must have been saving for a while to get this."

He shook his head. "No, she didn't."

I paused. "Okay…"

Warren exhaled sharply. Then in a rush he said, "It was my dad."

Oh. So that was it.

I came to stand beside him. He wouldn't look away from the car, as if he was afraid that taking his eyes off of it for even a moment would have disastrous results.

"I told him about what happened to the car last month," Warren explained softly. "It used to be his before he got…. Well anyway, I felt he had a right to know. I didn't think he'd get me a new one."

"How did he?"

A grim smile flashed across his face. "He had some money stashed away, insisted it was clean. Mom picked it up. She didn't want to at first; she let me know that right away. But then she said that it wasn't about her and Dad anymore- it was about me." He shook his head. "But I don't know if it is."

Warren turned to face me at last. And the look in his eyes finally made me understand why he'd come over with the car in the first place.

He wanted my advice.

I looked at the car. Warren's news had put something of a dampener on my perception of it now. It gleamed darkly in the sunlight, and I had the sudden irrational thought that if I put my hand on its hood, the surface would be treacherously cool.

But I put those thoughts aside quickly. Warren looked on the verge of something unpleasant and I wanted to reassure him that there was nothing wrong with accepting a graduation present from Barron Battle. Super Villain or not, he was still Warren's father.

In the end, I settled for the simpler route. "Your dad did something nice for you. I think it's best to just leave it at that."

Warren looked downwards, but he nodded. "Yeah, I guess."

"Besides, you have to admit. It's an awesome car."

That got a tentative smile out of him. "It _is_ pretty awesome, isn't it?" He gave me a sideways glance. "You're not gonna do anything to _this_ one, are you?"


	3. Beginnings

Thanks for the continued reviews and comments! And thanks to **arnold the female purple pygmy puff **for her beta work!

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sky High, or any of its canon characters.**

**Chapter Three- Beginnings**

"Can you believe it? Our first day. I feel so- so heroic!"

"Shh. Remember- 'Hero Support must be stealthy whenever possible'."

"Right, right. Hey, you wanna go for pizza afterwards? To celebrate?"

"For heaven's sake-"

"Okay okay, I'm shutting up."

"Thank you… and yeah, pizza sounds great."

And that was the beginning of our first patrol in the city.

Contrary to protocol, I'd let Evie choose her own Hero name. She'd immediately decided upon Scarlett, a name she'd been secretly harboring since her freshman year. It wasn't a bad choice, I thought.

I of course had chosen my name from the first day I'd gotten my powers. Back then I'd romanticized the idea of being a Super Hero, thinking it was all about saving the world and being loved and admired by everyone (except villains of course). I'd learned a lot since then, but the name stuck and held fast, as much a part of my identity as my birth name.

I was White Star.

My costume reflected this persona. Sleek, white, and shining, there was no cape (they were just too impractical these days); instead, I'd settled for a white hooded cloak to keep the dramatic effect. A mask was in order for the concealment of my scars. It was a sheer material, covering most of the upper part of my face, with a white star on the left side.

Scarlett's costume was predominantly white to match my own, but it also held her own style. Red accents adorned the cuffs and neckline. She wore no mask, but went heavy on the flaming red eye-makeup.

We were in Capitol Case (also referred to as Capitol Chaos by the locals), a neighborhood in the northwest part of Maxville. We'd stationed ourselves on the roof of one of the buildings in the main street. It was a less than favorable part of the city, known for its seedy bars and questionable elements. Contentedly, I ran my hand over the silver shield my father had given me. If any nefarious activity was going to take place it would happen here. And considering it was a Saturday night, the odds of catching a bad guy and bringing him (or her) to justice were definitely in our favor.

_~Four hours later~_

"That lady looks like she needs help," Evie- I mean Scarlett- said hopefully.

I looked over to where she was pointing. "She's just having an argument with her boyfriend. And it looks like she's winning," I added, watching the guy hang his head.

"I think I'll keep an eye on them just in case," Scarlett was saying.

Scarlett kept the binoculars glued to her face. Though she was skilled in the construction of basic Hero tech devices, it was her brother who had modified them for her. Warren wasn't kidding when he said that Evan knew his stuff. It was a pretty impressive piece of equipment with X-ray capabilities, augmented night vision and calculated thermal sensors so sensitive it could determine the body temperature of a person from three blocks away. Of course such a request didn't come without the required threat:

_I'm not your sidekick Evie! Fix it up yourself._

_Oh yeah? You want Mom to find out what _really_ happened to her antique plate? _

Evan had the binoculars ready in less than two hours.

I scanned the rest of the area. The air was filled with the usual sounds of people having a good time on a weekend night- raucous laughter and different levels of chatter from the after-work crowd; loud music spilled out of the bars and into the streets; the occasional blaring horn and shouted swearwords pierced the happily relaxed atmosphere.

"Slow night," Scarlett commented after awhile.

"That's a good thing," I reminded her, but I couldn't help but feel a little disappointed. When another three hours had gone by, I said "Time to pack it in, Scarlett."

"But-"

"Don't be upset, okay? We did a good job tonight. And who knows? We might save someone tomorrow."

Just then, a terrified scream rang out.

"Or tonight," Scarlett said, unable to mask her excitement.

We both dashed towards the sound, immediately deploying our grappling hooks onto the adjacent building. For a few exhilarating seconds we were hurtling through the air before landing on the pavement in the middle of a few onlookers that had gather around someone who was lying on the ground. It was a middle-aged woman, with a cut along her hairline that was bleeding too heavily for my comfort.

But the woman hardy seemed fazed. "Please get him! He stole my purse!" she cried out, pointing down the sidewalk, where a running figure was already disappearing around the corner.

"Get an ambulance," I told Scarlett sharply, before going after the purse-snatcher.

The guy was fast- already about twenty feet ahead of me, roughly shoving people out of the way as he tried to make his escape. I could have easily taken him out with one well-aimed light beam, but there were too many civilians around and I risked hitting one of them.

"Stop and hand over that purse!" I cried. I didn't really expect him to of course, but it was standard procedure. Sky High students had dubbed it the Warn-First-Then-Kick-Their-Ass protocol. In hindsight it probably wasn't the most original name in the world.

I sped up as best I could as the purse-snatcher turned yet another corner. It was his mistake- he ran into an alleyway which turned out to be a dead end.

Panicked, he turned back to me, glaring with eyes that were wild and defiant. He was a tall man, with an impressive physique. That poor woman didn't stand a chance. And here I was- the one thing that separated him from freedom.

Suddenly my Hero Arts teacher's voice ran clearly in my head:

_First impressions are important. Use your best Hero stance whenever possible. Remember class- style is everything!_

And so it was. Left hand on my waist, right arm outstretched, poised for attack. I thought it was heroic enough.

"There's nowhere else to go," I told him calmly. "Will you give up quietly?"

"Like hell I will, you costumed freak!"

He reached into his back pocket, and I immediately thought, _gun_. Before he could pull out whatever he had there, I reacted. A beam of white light exploded from my hand. It hit him in the gut and he fell back, slamming into the brick wall behind him. He dropped to the ground in a crumpled heap and didn't move.

"They never give up quietly," I said with a sigh, walking over to retrieve the purse.

I should have made sure he was unconscious.

As I reached down to pick up the purse his hand shot out, and the gleam of a knife descended rapidly towards my chest-

I raised my shield, blocking it at the last minute. There was a horrible scratching noise, then I heard the knife snap. But the man wasn't about to give up. Throwing the knife aside, he punched me before I could recover from the shock of the previous attack. I fell back, stumbling against the wall.

But not for long. Just as he got up and came for me again, I threw a right hook of my own. When that didn't slow him down, I powered up again and threw another jet of light. But he dodged it and came at me again.

Before I could do anything else however, the world suddenly became obscured in a shimmering red haze. I couldn't see my bad guy; I could barely see the hand in front of my face. But I heard a lot. A loud thump. A sharp cry. A body hitting the ground, then someone wheezing.

"Scarlett!" I said. Who else could it be?

"I'm… here!" I heard her say in between gasps. "Just… a few more….seconds. It'll… clear away."

And sure enough it did. When I could see again, I found the purse-snatcher face down on the ground, definitely out cold this time. Scarlett was sitting beside him, her back against the wall, with her head between her knees.

"Are you okay?" I asked her worriedly.

"Fine, fine," she choked out. She fumbled for something in her belt. When she pulled it out, I recognized it as an asthma inhaler. She took two puffs, then leaned back against the wall, breathing easier.

I looked at her in confusion for a moment, then turned slowly and wrenched the purse out of the unconscious man's hand. When I had it safely in my own hands, I said to her, "Let's get this guy over to the authorities. And I think that lady will want her purse back."

We left the purse-snatcher tied up in the alley and returned to the scene of the crime, where the woman who was attacked was being lifted into the ambulance. She thanked us profusely as we returned her purse and asked us who we were.

Evie and I told her our Hero names. Then in one fluid movement we deployed our hooks, taking to the air once again amidst spirited applause. As we did, I couldn't help but remember Miss Julie again:

_Your exit must always be as dramatic as your entrance. It is the trait of all Great Heroes- Anna Arrian, are you listening to me?_

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

We returned to our Secret Headquarters. As we were logging in our report for the evening, I decided to finally address what had been bothering me since the alley way.

"Evie," I began, as she hung up her boots, "That was great work today. You saved my life."

"Oh, you could've handled it," she said, grinning. "I just wanted to add my two cents into the mix. I mean, did we kick ass today or what?"

"We sure did," I said with a laugh I did not feel. "Um... actually about that-"

"Yeah?" She was still smiling, although now it seemed a bit strained.

"You looked like you were in trouble there for a minute," I said delicately. "You know, with the inhaler and all."

"It was nothing. I'm fine. So how about that pizza, huh?"

"Evie." My voice was low and filled with concern. "What happened out there?"

Still forcing a smile, she shook her head. "I just get a little out of breath now and then, that's all. It's no big deal."

"Do you… get out of breath often?"

"No." She looked away. "Just whenever I use my powers."

It wasn't until I saw her uncomfortably shifting from one foot to the other did I realize how long I'd been staring.

"I get a little asthmatic sometimes, that's all." She laughed nervously. "It's not like it affects my work or anything. I mean, I stopped the bad guy, right?"

I tried think of a tactful way to confirm what I thought she was saying. I realized there was none.

"You're allergic to your powers."

She didn't say anything for a while. Finally, eyes lowered and shuffling uneasily, she muttered, "When you put it like that- I guess so."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I thought you wouldn't want to work with me anymore," she said quietly. "Principal Powers said I might be hard to place because not many Heroes would want a sidekick with a disability like that." She looked up at me then and her eyes were perfectly miserable. "You're not gonna get rid of me, are you?"

Get rid of her? Was she serious? "Of course not," I said quickly. "I was just worried about you, that's all. I have no intention of letting you go."

She gave a sigh of relief. "Thanks Anna."

I gave her a reassuring smile.

………………………………….

The weeks passed steadily. The summer melted away. And gradually…stories of new Super Heroes around the world began pouring in, just like it usually did this time of year:

A busload of senior citizens were saved from a catastrophic collision when a driver suffered a heart attack at the wheel. The commuters were unhurt, the driver was last reported to be in stable condition. Two Superbeings in white left the scene amidst overwhelming applause.

A riot erupted in downtown Maxville involving two rival gangs. Innocent bystanders ran for their lives as gunfire filled the air. But the chaotic interlude was brief. By the time police arrived on the scene, both sides had been subdued in the most remarkable manner- fenced in by flames that shot up at least fifteen feet high. One witness said the Phoenix and Karbon melted his tires and he planned to sue. Another said the dark-haired Hero and his sidekick saved her and her child's life.

A new Super Villain called the Weather Man was whipping up a hurricane that threatened to take out the entire city- an event that proved too much for even the Commander and Jetstream. But a new flier who never spoke a word and his forceful redhead companion came on to the scene, diffusing the situation within moments. They were hailed as Maxville's new rising Greats.

And the war of good against evil raged on.

……………………………….

"Will that be cash or credit?" I asked.

"That's funny," Warren said dryly as he handed me a twenty dollar bill.

I chuckled. "So, you are coming to the twins' place tonight, aren't you?"

"Are you kidding me? Evan will kill me if I don't. He's been talking about it all week. Want me to pick you up?"

I gave him a sideways glance. "You're actually going to let me into your brand new car?"

Warren appeared to consider this. "I think I can trust you."

"Hey, would you hurry it up?" the man behind Warren complained. "You can talk to your girlfriend later."

Warren threw a quick glare at the man before clearing his throat, flushing slightly. "Anyway… I'll see you later."

"Uh…yeah." The cash register became oddly interesting.

When he left, the man walked up to the conveyor belt, dumping a stack of frozen steaks onto it. "Took you long enough," he muttered.

I took a deep breath, forcing down the sudden urge to knock him unconscious.

x

x

x

x

x

"I am so glad we did this," Evie said for the fifth time that evening as she popped in another movie.

"Is this _The Man Who Knew Too Little_?" Evan asked as he sat on the floor, perching himself up against the couch.

"No, _The Farmer's Wife_," she answered.

"Oh, I love this one!"

Warren and I looked at one another resignedly. We did promise them after all.

The Domagas twins had a monthly movie night ritual. Tonight they had invited us to join them. They thought it would be a great way to get better acquainted with us. I'd thought it'd be few actions flicks here, maybe a sci-fi movie there. But it was nothing of the sort. So far we'd seen _A Canterbury Tale, _and_ Roma, città aperta_. They were both black and white films from the forties, and I began to see a pattern. The movie came on. There were the standard antiquated credits, with accompanying antique music. I frowned.

"It's a silent film," I observed as the title cards appeared.

"Yeah. One of the classics," Evan said happily.

I heard Warren groan. The twins didn't seem to notice.

It was actually a pretty good film, if fairly predictable. When it was winding down, I glanced over at Warren who was sitting in a nearby chair, fast asleep. Surreptitiously, I reached over and nudged his arm. He awoke with a slight jerk just as the closing credits began to roll and the twins turned to us.

"So? What did you think of it?" Evan asked.

Warren opened his mouth but nothing came out. He raised his eyebrows and finally began, "It was…"

"Great!" I cut in, glancing at Warren. "It was funny and…endearing, you know? Right Warren?"

"Yeah, absolutely," he said hurriedly. "Really great movie."

"Awesome!" Evie and Evan said together. Warren and I exchanged carefully blank glances.

Evan began putting away the movies and Evie and I chatted for a while about our next Hero patrol. After another half hour had gone by Warren stood up and stretched.

"I should get going. I have an early class in the morning."

I stood up too, not wanting to lose my ride. It was pretty late anyway.

"Okay. Thanks for coming," Evan said.

"We should do this again," Evie added.

"Absolutely," I told them. Warren nodded half heartedly.

Fifteen minutes later we were driving through downtown Maxville. Warren toyed with the radio for a few minutes then turned it off with a yawn.

"Well….tonight was nice," I said after a few minutes of silence. "Those movies were pretty good. Old, but good."

Warren tossed me a look. "How can you watch an entire movie without hearing what anyone is saying?"

"It was a classic," I reasoned.

"If you say so."

I smiled, shaking my head. There were few people outside at this hour. Most stores were closed and there was something peaceful about the city at this time of night, if only treacherously so.

"So how's college treating you?" I asked serenely.

"It's been kind of hard, actually. But I've been keeping up with the assignments. I think I'll be all right."

"I know you will be," I told him confidently.

Warren glanced at me with one of his enigmatic expressions.

About ten minutes later, he pulled up at the corner of my street and I got out. "Thanks for the lift."

"No problem. See you later, Anna."

I walked up the street and the front path that led to my house. I opened the front door as quietly as I could so I didn't wake up my parents. But it turned out that they weren't asleep.

Jazz music and candlelight filtered out of the living room. I heard my mother laugh softly. I put down my bag and peered into the room.

My parents were dancing in a slow leisurely rhythm. Against the couch, my father's cane was forgotten as he twirled her around carefully. My mother beamed at him.

I backed out of the doorway and tiptoed up the stairs to my room. And drifting off to sleep that night, I felt much younger than my seventeen years.

I'd forgotten how they used to dance.


	4. Things of the Past

Thanks guys, for all of the reviews! I love to hear what you're thinking of the story so far, and your thoughts on the progression of the characters- it really makes my day. :)

Many thanks to **arnold the female purple pygmy puff **for her beta work!

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sky High, or any of its canon characters.**

**Chapter Four- Things of the Past**

Dad burst through the door, his face shining just as Mom and I had settled on the couch to watch TV.

"You'll never guess what I just heard!" Dad said excitedly. "Thomas Brenner's running for mayor!"

Mom and I stared at him blankly.

"An old acquaintance of mine from Sky High," he explained. "He had the power of intangibility- could turn himself into mist. Or was it smoke? Oh well, it was something like that. Can you believe it? A Super Hero, running for _mayor_! I'm sure going to vote for him." Dad sighed, twenty year-old memories flashing across his face. "He was a great guy. And really smart. Just what this city needs."

"That's great Dad," I said. As far as I knew, there had never been a Super Hero as mayor of Maxville.

"It certainly is. Hey, maybe I should go and see him. You know, put in a good word for you. You never know- he might need an assistant or something."

"Uh, no thanks," I said slowly.

"Oh come on Annie, it wouldn't hurt to ask. And it'd sure save you the hassle of making up excuses to civilians when you need to go save the city."

"That's just it. Mr. Brenner would need someone reliable, not a Hero who'd go rushing off every time someone needed help."

Dad frowned a little, but didn't say anything else. Mom cleared her throat. "Charles, we were just about to watch a movie. Why don't you come join us?"

So he did, settling himself next to Mom. We didn't say much the rest of the evening.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Good morning," I groaned out to no one in particular.

"Anna, in here. I'm getting breakfast ready," my mother called out from in the kitchen. I exhaled heavily. A good meal was exactly what I needed.

Dad was sitting in his usual chair at the kitchen table, just as my mother set down a cup of coffee in front of him. She looked up to greet me with a smile, and her face flooded with dismay.

"Anna, what happened to your eye?" she whispered.

"It's nothing, really. I just-" That was all I got out before a slab of beef was pressed to my face. Boy, did Mom move fast.

It had been a particularly busy night of crime-fighting: a convenience store robbery, a car-jacking, some crazed Super Villain trying to steal plutonium at a laboratory and to top it off, a bar fight which turned ugly very quickly. Scarlett and I were able to subdue several brawlers long enough for the police to arrive, but not without receiving a few blows in the process. Some guy threw a blind punch and it unfortunately caught me right in the face. Scarlett didn't get off so easily either- she suffered from a sprained wrist as a result of the melee, but not without sending two people to the hospital.

What a night. It took me a half hour to get the blood stains off of my costume and shield.

"Mom I'm okay, I swear," I said, even as she continued to fuss over me.

"Diane, she's fine. You know this kind of thing comes with the job." Dad tried to sound offhand and casual, but I noticed his eyes kept roaming towards the large bruise around my right eye.

Mom reluctantly left me alone, but not before putting the raw meat in my hand. I set it down on the nearest plate as soon as her back was turned.

"So what's on the agenda today, Annie?" Dad asked as I pulled up a chair.

"Well, it's my day off at the grocery store, so unless something goes down in the city…" I trailed off as I saw my dad's expression. "What?"

"Have you given any thought about your new job?"

My mother gave him a disapproving glance, but my father was looking at me expectantly.

I groaned inwardly, tired of my father's prodding. I _had_ given it some thought, though perhaps not as much I should have. But I was so busy lately with saving people, and I was nearly always tired. The last thing I wanted to do at the moment was worry about my career, or lack of one.

"I've been thinking about it Dad. But I'm still not sure what I want to do."

"I understand that you want some time, but you can't wait around trying to decide forever. It doesn't seem right, a Super Hero stocking canned peas."

I gave him a sharp stare. "Well I'm sorry if I'm embarrassing you."

"Honey, that's not what he meant," Mom said.

"I know what he meant," I said sullenly.

"Annie, I just want you to be successful."

I turned to face him. "I help people every day. I save lives. As far as I'm concerned, I _am_ successful."

"All right, that's enough talk," Mom said firmly. She pushed a plate of scrambled eggs and toast towards me. "Eat and not a word, both of you."

Dad and I knew that tone. We did as we were told.

After breakfast, I thanked Mom and walked out of the kitchen without so much as looking my father. It wasn't his intention to upset me I knew, but I couldn't help it.

xxxxxxxxxxx

"What happened to _you_?" Warren asked perfunctorily from across the table, referring to the magnificent shiner I was now sporting.

I picked up my can of soda and tried not to roll my eyes, if only because it would hurt. Well, more than it already did. "Bar fight."

"Wow. You really didn't strike me as the type, Anna."

"Oh you're funny," I said dryly, as he ducked his head to hide a smile. I gracefully decided to say nothing of the large bruise on his forearm. If we were to comment on every visible injury suffered as a result of crime-fighting, nothing would ever get done.

I'd gone to see Warren at Maxville University that afternoon after taking a much needed nap. Because it was Sunday he'd only had one class, one he'd just finished prior to my arrival. Now we were in the campus cafeteria, which was mostly empty. I'd just finished reading the newspaper, which was headlined _Hero Advocate_ _Thomas Brenner Takes City Hall by Storm_.

Warren was working on a draft paper for some psychology class. "So what made you decide to brave the rain and come see me?"

"Your awesome personality of course," I told him with a straight face as I folded the newspaper.

"I'm touched." His lopsided grin faded. "But seriously. Something's wrong."

I lowered my eyes. I thought I'd done a good job of seeming okay. "My dad and I have been getting into it a little lately. He's… he's been on me about finding another job."

"Thought that's what you wanted."

"I never told you that."

"Come on, Anna. You know you hate that job," he said matter-of-factly as he opened another text book.

I gave a short sigh. "Okay, so I do. But does he have to pester me about it?"

"Your dad's just looking out for you."

"Whose side are you on anyway?" I complained.

"Hey, I'm trying to be fair."

I shook my head, hating how right he was. "I know. I know you are."

Warren gave me a calculating look. "Here, make yourself useful," he said, pushing over one of his books. "Help me finish this paper. _The Nature versus Nurture Debate_, Chapter Four."

Just like old times_,_ I thought, remembering when we'd spent hours in the Sky High library working on that fated Hero History report. But I didn't voice these thoughts. I turned to the bookmarked page and began reading.

That was how we spent the rest of the afternoon. It was surprising how easily I fell back into the rhythm of doing stuff like this- papers, research, etc. I never really appreciated it much when I was in school. But now I realized that I kind of missed it.

When it grew dark, we got something to eat at a nearby place. Warren told me about his professors and what he learned in his various classes; the minor but vaguely entertaining incidents that occurred around campus, and the upcoming midterms. I'd never heard him talk so openly about anything before. His smiles came without its usual hesitation- the college experience was clearly doing him some good.

We left the restaurant about an hour after we finished our meal. The downpour had stopped for now. An upward glance revealed a muddy-looking sky, threatening more rain to come. Still, I preferred this to snow.

Warren drove carefully on the rain slick streets; I was already well on my way to the sleep I'd missed out on the night before. But Warren pulled up at the corner of my street before I could go fully under.

"Thanks for the lift," I said.

"Thanks for the visit," he answered. He sounded like he meant it.

"Anna?!"

I jumped and whirled around. My father was standing outside just outside the door, holding a bag of groceries and looking furious. He had caught me so completely off guard that I froze in my seat, not knowing what to do or say. Warren seemed to be in the same state.

My father yanked the door open. "Get out of that car," he ordered.

The anger in his voice got me moving; I did as he asked. But unfortunately so did Warren. He got out and came around the car, his hands held up in an almost surrendering gesture.

"Mr. Arrian, this is my fault-"

But that was as far as he got. My father dropped the groceries and the cane that he was using. With a cry, he grabbed Warren by the collar and slammed him into the hood of the car.

"I warned you," he growled as he threw Warren against the hood again. "I _warned_ you!"

"Dad, stop!" I screamed, shocked. I grabbed his arms and tried to yank him away, but his stance was surprisingly solid for someone who used a cane. When my father showed no signs of backing off, I had no choice. Powering up, I used my light force to pull him backwards. He lost his footing for a moment and stumbled into me, but I was able to keep him upright before we both ended up on the ground.

"Warren- go," I pleaded. He hesitated for a moment. Then with a regretful look he straightened his jacket, got into the car and drove off.

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

My father was pacing back and forth in the living room with visible difficulty. I didn't know where Mom was- probably out, or asleep upstairs. At any rate, I found myself wishing that she was here. She'd be on my side, I knew.

"What do I have to do to get you to listen to me? How many times do I have to tell you before you'll understand? Nothing good's going to come out of you associating with that kid!"

"Something already has," I said quietly.

"Oh really? Like what? Like you sneaking around? Lying to me about where you are? Talking back? You were never like this before."

"I never wanted to lie, Dad! But what choice did you give me? You won't even try to see things my way. It's crazy having to be punished for a feud that happened _two decades ago_!"

"Don't trivialize this, Anna! This is a thousand times more serious than you understand!"

"I know it is, Dad." I lowered my voice, trying to bring things under control. "I know it is. But it doesn't have anything to do with me or Warren. We're not hurting anyone and he's my friend. Why is that so terrible?"

My father stopped pacing long enough to face me. His expression was that of stoic defiance. "No, Anna. I'm sorry, but I'm not arguing this out with you again. You are not going near that kid anymore and that's the end of it."

"I'm not?" The question sounded strangely dull to my own ears.

"No, you're not!"

"And how do you intend to stop me?"

There it was. The words were out and nothing could take them back again.

My father paused, and his eyes clouded over with incredulity and anger, pinning me down where I stood.

"What did you say?"

It had been a long time since I'd heard that tone of voice. For a second my courage failed and the stirrings of an apology began to make itself known in my mind. But I wouldn't give in. I was tired of always giving in and relenting to my father's orders. It would be three weeks until I turned eighteen; I was an official Guardian of the City for heaven's sake. Why did he keep treating me like a child?

"I said," my voice would _not_ falter, "'How do you intend to stop me?'"

My father said nothing, watching me with a shocked indignation that was rare for him. And I waited for the ball to drop, for the painful words to start flying that one- or both- of us would regret later.

x

x

x

x

x

x

x

x

x

x

x

Déjà vu.

I was walking out into the storm _again_; this time, to a place I was unsure of. It was kind of hard to see anything. The neighborhood houses were blurry water-colored shadows. The gutters were overflowing. My boots sloshed along the sidewalk and I tried to pick up my pace, wiping away tears as well as the rain.

I should have let the argument end before it came to this.

I couldn't even remember how it happened exactly. One minute I was trying to get my father to see reason, and the next we were having an impromptu screaming match. It was loud enough to bring Mom downstairs at last. She'd tried to temper things, which Dad was more than willing to acquiesce to. I however, wasn't.

I said, _we were going to resolve this tonight._

Dad snapped_ that it was simple enough, just leave Warren alone-_

_That was not an option! _I told him heatedly.

Mom yelled that_ that was enough!_

Only Dad and I didn't listen this time.

There were more words. Too many words, rushing out so sharp and fast between us, I doubt any of them made sense. It went on for some time until… the ultimatum came: I either listened to my father and stayed away from Warren, or I kept on with this self-destructive behavior.

_But not in his house._

Mom had said something else then- her voice high, shocked. I didn't remember what it was, but I _did_ remember that she used my father's full name.

After that, there were no more words. I stormed out of the room. Out of the house.

I walked three or four blocks before I realized that I didn't know where I was going. I didn't even have my umbrella- I'd forgotten it in all the chaos. Lovely.

Lightning flashed, followed by a boom of thunder which jolted me out of my miserable thoughts. For a few seconds I stood on the rain drenched sidewalk, not knowing where to go. Strangely enough, my mind wandered to the last time I had 'run away'. I was eight years old and ironically it was because Mom and Dad had gotten into a pretty intense argument about his Hero work. I never knew the specifics and they never told me. At the time though, I'd thought that they didn't love each other anymore and that I was somehow the reason, so I left. I'd made a couple of sandwiches, filled a bottle with water and put it in my knapsack, along with some of my favorite books and a small blanket. In no time at all I was ready to go- eight years old, and about to start a life on my own.

But I didn't get far that day. I'd found refuge in the one other place I'd ever called home. And almost unwillingly, I found myself there once again.

It was a place I'd taken great pains to avoid for months. But it was raining and late. I had no money with me, and I didn't know where else to go.

I rang the bell and waited. I couldn't believe I was doing this.

The door opened and my aunt stood there staring at me, as if frozen.

"Aunt Nia? Please…can I come in?"

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It had been a long time since I'd seen Aunt Nia and Uncle Matthew. Which was understandable I suppose- spending time with the person whose son you killed wasn't exactly at the top of my list of things to do. I'd visited once or twice at first, back when we tried prematurely to put the horror of Paul's death behind us. But it was just too painful- I couldn't do it. Aunt Nia's and Uncle Matthew's visits to my own house swiftly became fewer; their phone calls soon became non-existent. My parents didn't know how to deal with it.

And so what was one big family became two smaller ones.

Aunt Nia looked different. She'd cut her hair, and was somewhere thinner than I remembered. Drenched as I was, she pulled me into a hug - an action borne out of a lifetime of habit more than anything. Still, I couldn't help but think that my aunt must have been the most forgiving woman on the planet. Uncle Matthew nodded a greeting, but couldn't quite look at me. I didn't blame him.

What was I _doing_ here?

Shaky and stammering, I half-explained that I'd gotten into a fight with my father. Leaving out the Warren factor seemed best. My aunt didn't ask any questions. In fact, she barely spoke at all. She hung up my wet things and said that I could sleep in the spare bedroom.

She didn't have a spare bedroom. Not really. She meant _Paul's _room.

I delayed having to go in there as long as I could. I had the mother of all long showers. I brushed my teeth over and over again. I took my time putting on the night clothes Aunt Nia had given me. I stood outside the door for a full five minutes. When I finally did open it, I felt a shock run through me.

Perhaps I expected white sheets covering everything, like in the movies. An air of melancholy and emptiness, something to mark the finality of Paul being gone. But my cousin's room looked exactly the same as it always had. Same hastily-made bed. Same shoes thrown carelessly everywhere. Same brightly colored music posters on the wall (although I noticed a very fine layer of dust on those). Somehow, that seemed worse. Like the room went on existing as it always had, even without its former occupant.

I got into the bed and tried not to look at anything.

The worst of the storm came down around midnight. It assaulted the roof, piercing my dreams with loud images that made no sense at all. Lightning flashed erratically behind my eyelids every few seconds like flashbacks of the present. It made me worried- this could so easily turn into a nightmare.

I was curled up under Paul's too-heavy blankets, trying to get comfortable. But it was all kinds of creepy sleeping in his bed like this. There was no way, simply no way at all that I would fall asl-

_Wake up Anna._

Groggily, I opened my eyes.

And wished that they were closed again.

Paul was sitting on the bed, looking down at me with a pleasantly surprised expression.

"Hey cuz," he said.


	5. Everything Changes

Thank you for the reviews- I appreciate them all, so please continue to send me your thoughts! And many thanks to **arnold the female purple pygmy puff** for her beta work!

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sky High, or any of its canon characters.**

**Chapter Five- Everything Changes**

I grunted out a shocked curse, then instinctively rolled away from him. Only I rolled too far and ended up on the floor.

"You okay?" he asked conversationally in that deep hollow voice of his, as I struggled out of the tangle of bed sheets.

Stunned and still half asleep, I didn't answer at first. I finally got to my feet and gaped at him, trying to control the revulsion that gripped me from the moment I opened my eyes.

"Paul? What are you doing here?" I managed to get out.

He scoffed. "Oh that's rich. This is my room. I live here."

"You don't _live _anywhere." As soon as I said it I bit my tongue, feeling sick with myself. What was wrong with me?

But Paul grinned, baring those unsettling fangs. "That's funny."

"No it's not funny; it's not funny at all," I told him reproachfully. "Seriously Paul. What are you doing here?"

Paul propped his legs up on the bed and I unconsciously moved farther away. He didn't seem to notice. "I come home now and again. You know, hang out in my room, read some of my old books. I still draw pictures you know-"

"Are you crazy?! What if your parents came in and saw you?"

"Don't worry. Mom and Dad never come in here." The amusement was gone from his pale eyes. He looked away and a sad quality came into his stance. "I listen to them talk, you know. They don't even mention my name." Paul exhaled softly, staring at nothing. "I think they're trying to forget me."

My throat suddenly felt tight. "Paul… you know that's not true. They loved- they love you very much. It's just been really hard for them."

"Hard for _them_? I'm the one that died!"

"Paul," I admonished quietly. Eventually he sighed.

"Sorry. I guess you're right. I just wish…oh, never mind." He looked up at me curiously. "Why are you here anyway?"

"Uh... my dad, had an argument with Dad," I stammered out.

Paul frowned. "You never fight with Uncle Charles. What's going on?"

"I really don't feel like getting into it."

"Why not? Here." He got up off the bed and sat on a chair at the farthest end of the room. "Now you can feel more comfortable. Tell me what's going on."

I gazed at my cousin- my deceased cousin, whom I had _killed_- trying to have a heart-to-heart with me. The whole thing was ridiculous and unbelievable and morbid. I half wondered if I was still dreaming, before concluding that my subconscious wasn't masochistic enough to cook this one up.

The last time I'd seen him, Paul had given me the impression that he was going to stay away from me forever. He knew the extreme unpleasantness his presence caused and I came to see that the longer he stayed the worse the feeling became. I kept back, positively squirming now.

But Paul waited patiently. Finally I relented and sat on the edge of the bed.

"Dad… he caught me in Warren's car. He told me not to see him, but I didn't listen. We had a huge fight about it. Geez, he just about flipped."

"Oh come on, it couldn't have been that bad. It's Uncle Charles we're talking about."

I looked up at him darkly. "He attacked Warren."

Paul's eyes widened. "Really?" A short laugh burst out of him. "That's awesome!"

I gave my cousin a glare so ferocious that the smile was wiped from his face almost instantly.

"I mean…sorry," he said lamely.

"I knew I shouldn't have told you anything."

"I said sorry."

I just scoffed.

"So… what's going to happen?" he encouraged softly. "I mean, you're going to have to go back home sometime."

"Do I?" I said defensively, rubbing my hands a little.

"Be realistic Anna. Uncle Charles is probably worried sick about you right now."

"I'm sure he's not. You weren't there Paul. He told me that I either obey him or get out of his house."

That stopped him. "He did?"

"Yes."

My cousin gazed at me with something like pity in his eyes. "So what are you going to do?"

I shifted a bit, trying to get rid of an odd numbness that began to settle in my limbs. "You see where I am, don't you?"

Paul frowned. "Are you really choosing Warren in all this?"

I made an exasperated noise. "It's not just about Warren! Dad can't keep trying to control me! Where I work, who I can and can't be friends with. I'm…tired of it...." I trailed off with a groan. Something was wrong. My entire body was aching terribly.

"Anna? What's wrong?" Paul asked, concerned. He got up and came over to me.

Immediately a fresh more intense wave of pain hit me. "No," I gasped, "Stay back!"

He paused, looking worried. Then the realization cleared his gray features. "Is it me? Am I hurting you?"

I nodded, eyes screwed shut. "I think so, yeah." The discomfort that I'd felt when Paul was near had suddenly escalated into acute pain.

I heard Paul take in a breath he no longer needed. "Oh. I'll go then. I guess I should anyway, let you get some sleep. Good night Anna."

Almost as soon as he said those words, the pain vanished. I opened my eyes. Paul had gone.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"How are you?" Warren half-whispered, even though there was no chance of us being overheard. We were on the phone after all.

"I should be asking you that question. Dad didn't exactly go easy on you."

"I'll live." I heard the smile in his words.

I was home again, for now. My mother had come to get me. Her eyes were red like she'd been crying but her voice was steady as she spoke to Aunt Nia, perhaps for the first time in months. I thanked my aunt sincerely for allowing me to stay the night. She gave me an unexpected smile.

At home Dad was nowhere to be found. Which was just as well, I supposed. I didn't feel like facing him at the moment.

"I'm really sorry Warren," I said.

"Don't be. It wasn't your fault."

"Still…" I shook my head, remembering the previous night. Dad had freaked out in a way I'd never seen him do before. And Warren didn't even try to defend himself, not even to push my father away. Not that I wanted him to hurt Dad- but I didn't want _him_ to get hurt either.

"Anna," Warren said, and there was a weight in his voice that I did not like. "I've been thinking. I mean with your Dad and all. Maybe… maybe we shouldn't-"

I knew where this was going and I wouldn't let him do it. "The twins have this whole new movie thing on for next week," I cut in brusquely. "Classic sci-fi or something. Might be good, right?"

A stretch of silence on the other end of the line. And then: "Yeah. Might be."

My heart was racing and I didn't know why. Warren said he had to go and that he'd call me later. I wasn't sure that he would. The thought kind of scared me.

"Are you done?"

I looked up at my mother, who was standing just within the door. It wasn't an angry or bitter question. Just a curious one.

"Yeah," I said, watching her settle into the chair by the desk. She half turned toward it, arranging the books and throwing away bits of scrap paper in the little bin alone told me what state she was in.

"You know, your father's really upset."

"Yeah, I imagine he would be," I muttered sarcastically.

"Anna," Mom said quietly, "This is _not_ something you should take lightly."

"Am I laughing? Look, I know he's upset. But how do you think I feel? Think this hasn't been affecting me too?"

"I know it has. But the fact remains that you and your father have to talk about this. Not yell- _talk_."

"Talk, huh? About what exactly? How he assaulted my friend for existing? Dad's not going to change his mind about this. And neither am I."

"So what do you intend to do?" Mom asked. "Because this- this rift between you and your father…it can't continue to go on like this!"

"You're right, Mom. It can't. And it won't."

She heard the tone in my voice and stared at me. "What do you mean by that?"

"Nothing." I looked down then at the clock which lay by my bedside. "Look, I have work now. I'll see you later, okay?" I kissed her cheek, and left.

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Anna?"

I looked up. It was Mr. Frederick, my boss.

"Closing time. You can leave now."

I looked around. Apart from the few employees I could see finishing up at the registers, the place was empty.

"Oh. Right."

"Have a good night."

"Thank you."

I signed out, pulled on my jacket and went outside. I stood at the bus stop, thinking about choices and what it meant to be an adult. When the bus pulled up, I hesitated.

"Are you coming in or what?" the bus driver asked irritably.

"Uh… No. Sorry." I stepped back.

The driver muttered something under his breath. He closed the doors and drove off.

I looked up at the sky. It looked clearer than it had in weeks. It was nice enough weather for a walk. Maybe a visit with Evie would do me some good.

When I got Evie's house, I only rang the doorbell once before it opened. Evan stood there, pale and somber.

A flash of terror ran through me. "Evan? What is it?"

He closed his eyes for a moment before saying. "Angie Waters is dead. She was Evie's friend."

Angie Waters… I knew that name. She had gone to Sky High. "Oh my god," I whispered. "I'm so sorry. Where's Evie? Is she okay?" Not waiting for an answer I walked past him calling out, "Evie?"

I found her in the living room. She was sitting in the couch staring into space with the most devastated look in her eyes.

"Evie?" I said softly.

"I- I just talked to her," Evie stammered out. "Two days ago." Fresh tears streamed down her face and she stifled a sob. "She… I was going to visit her this weekend."

"What happened?" I asked, feeling tears sting at my own eyes, though I barely knew her.

"Crazy guy at the bank," Evan said. "He had a bomb."

Evie moaned quietly. I immediately went over and wrapped my arms around her. "If there's anything I can do," I said. "Anything at all-"

Evan's phone rang then. He blushed, murmuring a flustered "Sorry," and got up to go into the next room.

A few moments later he returned, looking apologetic. "That was Warren. I… have to go-"

"It's okay, Evan. I'll be all right." Evie mumbled. As Evan reached down to hug her, she whispered. "_Please_…be careful."

"You know I will," he told her with a reassuring smile. Then he left.

"Where's your mom?" I asked her.

"She's still at work at the nursing home. She won't be coming home until seven."

I blinked. "In the morning?"

Evie nodded.

I shook my head. "I'm going to stay here with you tonight, okay? You shouldn't be alone like this."

"Oh no Anna, you don't have to-"

"Shh," I said gently. "I'm staying."

I made her some chamomile tea I'd found in one of the kitchen shelves. She took it gratefully, sipping it for a while. At least she'd stopped crying.

"We weren't like, super-close or anything," she said, her voice thick with emotion. She stared into the mug. "She was a Hero, so…you know?"

I nodded.

"But she was so nice to me. We used to take the same bus to school, and she'd always wave and say hi. She never made fun of me like the others did when I powered up and got sick." Evie smiled sadly. "She'd even invited me to her birthday parties. After graduation I kind of hoped we'd be paired up…." she stopped and glanced at me guiltily. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean-"

"It's okay. I understand."

Evie shook her head. "I just can't believe… she's gone." She drained her tea.

Sometime later, Evie seemed to calm down. She laid herself out on the couch and I settled myself on the floor nearby.

I tried to remember Angie Waters, to build her up in my memory to something more than a name called out by some random teacher. But there was no memory of her at all. And for some reason _that_ made the tears start to fall.

As far as I knew, Angie Waters was the first of our school year to fall in the line of duty. I knew she wouldn't be the last.

When I sat up, I saw that Evie had curled up into a loose ball on the couch. She was asleep, her face still tear-streaked.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Nothing looked any brighter the next morning. I reluctantly left Evie when her mother got back. I took the bus home, feeling strange- sort of heavy and surreal. I watched the people on the streets as we drove past; people going to work, or taking their children to school. Their worries were for the most part mundane and safe, and I felt a lurch of envy in my stomach.

What made me stronger than them?


	6. Leaving

Big thanks to those who sent such heartfelt reviews- Serennog, Greyhaven11, ChamberlainofMusic, and so many others! I love each and every one of your comments and thoughts. You guys are truly amazing!

And continued thanks to **arnold the female purple pygmypuff** for her beta work! :)

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sky High, or any of its canon characters.**

**Chapter Six- Leaving**

I bought a new black dress. My former one had been received about two years ago and was starting to get a little small. The new one was nothing special- simple cut, comfortable cotton. But that was enough.

The Angie Waters' funeral made headlines. The quintessential Hero, who sacrificed herself for the people of the city, the newspapers said. The church was packed, filled with family and friends and fellow Heroes. Warren, Evan and I comforted Evie as best we could. She kept it together pretty well, shedding only a few silent tears.

There was no coffin and remembering how she died I put two and two together. There was a picture though- a smiling girl with short brown hair and wide blue eyes. I drudged up a memory of a flier who played Save the Citizen often.

I smiled despite my sadness; I finally remembered her.

As the ceremony came to a close, I wondered how many more funerals I would have to attend… and how many of the people I knew and loved would be left to attend my own.

The twins had invited Warren and me over for lunch, but I told them I had something very important to do. Warren went with them. Warren had become a tentative presence in the days that followed the altercation with my father. He'd grown quiet, thoughtful- a temperament that I echoed whenever he was around. Sometimes I'd look up to find him staring at me with a kind of vague fervor. I hoped he'd snap out of it soon. It was starting to wear on me.

When I got home, I felt…old. Brushing off the feeling, I immediately went into the kitchen where I heard my parents. Mom looked up from her lunch. Dad went on eating, unaffected.

He'd been doing that lately. He wasn't actively ignoring me, but certainly wasn't speaking to me unless he had to. Late at night I would hear him and my mother arguing about it in muffled voices. But nothing really changed. Now Dad just looked at me as if I'd betrayed him in the worst way possible.

What I was about to do hurt me, but it had to be done. It had become more than a disagreement, more than a point of mild contention. I'd let the growing differences my father and I had go in the past but it had become too much. I couldn't ignore this anymore.

"I have something to say. To both of you," I announced, trying to swallow away the sudden dryness in my throat. "I've been thinking about this for a while and… well…I'm leaving."

Mom stared at me, shocked. Dad finally looked up then, his expression revealing nothing.

"Leaving?" my mother finally managed. "What do you mean 'leaving'?"

"I mean I'm moving out."

"You're not serious! You can't move out Anna- you're not nearly old enough to move out!"

"I'm going to be eighteen soon," I began, but Mom didn't seem to have heard me.

"Where do you intend to move? How are you going to take care of yourself with a part-time job? Anna, this is crazy! You can't-"

"Please just listen to me, all right?" I cut in, loud enough to be heard.

Mom went silent, but she shot an accusing look at my father. He was still watching me with that blank expression.

"Listen I… I have some money saved up from work. It's not much but it should cover about a month's rent and the security. I'll find a cheap enough place. And in the meantime, I'll look for a second job. And even if that doesn't work out, there's always Hero Aid, right?"

"That only applies to Heroes with underprivileged backgrounds who don't earn enough with their cover job."

Dad said it. I looked over at him, feeling my back tense up.

"I'll get by," I told him quietly.

"But you don't have to get by! You have a home _here_, you-" She shot Dad a demanding look. "Charles, aren't you going to _say anything_?"

But Dad didn't. Not at first. He turned back to his lunch. After a while he answered, "It sounds like Anna's made her choice. There's really nothing to say to that."

I had the feeling his words didn't just refer to the announcement I'd made. I shook my head, suddenly angry.

"I'm moving out," I said firmly. "And that's it."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Moving?"

"Yeah."

"Seriously. You're really moving?"

"Am I not making myself clear here?"

Warren stared at me from across the table then glanced away, shaking his head.

I rolled my eyes. "What are you thinking?"

"Nothing." He wouldn't look at me.

"Warren…"

"Fine. You want to know what I'm thinking? I'm wondering why the hell you're doing this."

"I can't stay there anymore," I told him simply.

"But why not? You've got both your parents there for you. Why go out and rough it on your own? Do you know how much apartments cost these days?"

"Wow, thanks for the vote of confidence."

"I'm serious Anna."

"So am I. You don't know, okay? Things have gotten so crazy with my dad and…I just don't see myself living there much longer."

Warren ran a hand over his face and gave me an almost pleading look. "Please tell me this has nothing to do with what happened the other night."

"Oh don't flatter yourself," I muttered, digging into my shredded beef and noodles and hoping he wouldn't see the half-lie. "Did you make this?" I added, trying to change the subject.

"Yeah."

"Too much ginger."

Warren smiled dryly. "Then maybe you'll quit eating and tell me how I can talk you out of this."

I gave him a weary look. "Warren, it's really-"

"_Don't _tell me it's complicated. You have a good home, a great family. I don't get why you'd want to leave."

"I'm not-" I began sharply but then took a deep breath, lowering my voice. "I'm not going to stay in a house with an ultimatum attached, okay?"

Warren narrowed his eyes. "What are you talking about?"

I shifted my food around the plate, trying my hardest to look nonchalant. "Dad told me… he said I couldn't hang out with you, and still live in his house."

Warren stared at me for so long it was all I could do to keep from hitting him. "What?" I snapped at last.

"Do you realize how crazy you sound right now? You're moving out because of-"

"Don't say it," I warned him in a deadly voice. "I'm not leaving because of you. It's the fact that he's trying to make me choose. I'm not going to let him control my actions."

"He's just trying to protect you," Warren argued.

"Yeah. From _you_."

"Okay, so he's a little misguided. But you have to know he never wanted you to leave."

"I know he didn't. But he's just going to have to deal with it."

"Anna, he's your _father_," Warren said. His voice was insistent, stubborn. "You shouldn't just- I mean, some people don't get to…" he trailed off, looking uncomfortable.

I swallowed and glanced away. "Look, it's not like I'm moving out of the country or anything. I still love him. Hell, I'll visit him often enough. I just can't… live with him anymore."

Warren gazed at me with something between annoyance and resignation. "You're not going to change your mind about this are you?"

"No, I'm not." I looked at him hesitantly. "You'll help me find a place though, won't you? Somewhere affordable?"

"Sure, why not," he said, even though he didn't look too happy about it.

I smiled and went back to my food. "You know, you really did put too much ginger in this."

"Hey, don't complain about a free lunch."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The tension in the house was nearly unbearable. Mom was miserable. She tried to convince me to change my mind whenever the opportunity presented itself, and even when it didn't. Dad…well, he just went about his business like nothing had changed. I could tell that infuriated her.

I found myself staying out as often as I could- working additional hours at Maxville's Value Mart and doing extra Hero work around the city, just so I wouldn't have to face any of that. Evie was more than happy to join me. I figured she wanted a distraction since her friend's death and I welcomed the company.

We were at our headquarters, costumed and ready, listening in on a police radio my father used to use for any local disturbances. I surreptitiously looked over at her. Evie spun around in her swivel chair, her eyes closed. It had been almost two weeks since Angie's funeral. Evie had become rather quiet, not at all her usual animated self. She wasn't exactly sad (not outwardly anyway), just somber.

"Hey," I said, "Want to grab some takeout after this?"

"Sure," she said, not opening her eyes. I sighed inwardly. We would have had a mini-argument about where we'd eat on a normal night.

Something caught my attention. I turned up the police radio and listened.

"Ten seventy-one, Scarlett. A shooting, let's go."

We arrived on the scene which was less than two blocks away. We were on top of a residential building which several police cars had surrounded. Below us a man had a hostage, a young boy of about eight who was crying, terrified of the gun pressed to his temple. I felt my stomach churn.

"Remember the plan, Scarlett."

"Yes," she breathed.

Light burst out of my right hand and I aimed it at a point several meters away from the man and his hostage. It struck the ground with an audible crack.

The tactic worked. The man turned to the sound, hastily aiming his gun in its general direction and for the moment, away from the boy.

We jumped.

I landed right behind him, hurling a beam of light into his side that knocked him flat to the ground. At the same time, Scarlett snatched the boy up and carried him out of harm's way.

The prostrate man was groaning, gun still loosely clutched in his hand. I kicked it away and hauled him to his feet.

Suddenly Scarlett was there, grabbing the man by the collar and hurling a punch that made him stumble backwards.

"Scarlett!" I hissed. "That's enough!" I pulled her off of him just as the police came up. They took over, with a lingering glance at Scarlett before they handcuffed the man and read him his rights.

When we returned to headquarters, I rounded on her immediately. "What the hell was that?"

"Sorry," she said shortly, taking off her costume. She kept her eyes averted.

"'Sorry'? That's all you have to say?"

"I didn't think. I just lost control for a second."

"Evie, the one rule we're taught when we're in the middle of a confrontation is that we keep our heads. We _don't_ get emotionally invested!"

"I know that!" She shot back sharply. She grabbed a shirt and slipped it over her head in a rough motion.

I shook my head, not knowing what else to say.

Evie sank into the nearest chair and covered her face with her hands. For long seconds she just sat there, not moving. Then:

"That little kid asked me if his Dad was going to jail. That guy pointed a gun at his own son." She looked up at me with a dull look in her eyes.

"Evie-"

"It's just- it's not at all like I thought it would be."

I pulled up another chair and sat down with her. I knew what she meant. We'd all dreamed the dream, blissfully ignoring the risks, even romanticizing the danger. But now we were out here, witnessing firsthand all the horror our city- our _home_- had to offer. It was like a sickness we'd spend the rest of our lives treating, but could never cure.

"It's our job." It was all I could say.

She stood up and grabbed her jacket. She looked kind of pale. "I know. Rain check on dinner, okay? I don't feel very hungry. I just want to go home."

…

In downtown Maxville there were two civilian casualties (an elderly man and his granddaughter) in the battle between Super Hero Diamond Heart and his archenemy, the Mistress of Blood.

An unbalanced ego-centric Villain tried to wipe the US western seaboard off the map with a devastating earthquake. He didn't succeed in his initial quest due to the combined efforts of several lesser-known Heroes, but his ill intent was successful enough- no less than fifty people were lost as a result of the initial massive tremors.

And another Hero was lost as she sacrificed herself saving hundreds of people on a bridge on the verge of collapse. The world knew her as Cosma. I remembered her as Debbie Bernstein, my former classmate.

….

My mother made a big breakfast of French toast and apple sausages; something she had done on every birthday in my memory. Dad surprised me with a kiss on the cheek and a murmured, 'Happy Birthday'. He'd placed an envelope into my hand. It contained a card signed 'Best Birthday Wishes, Love Mom and Dad' and two hundred dollars. I'd imagined turning eighteen as a major celebratory event filled with happiness and a sense of heightened independence. Not sitting at the table brooding over a large meal that no one wanted to eat.

I left for work early.

At Maxville's Value Mart I spent the better part of the morning defrosting old meat freezers and then later, trying to explain to a customer why he couldn't return a used toothbrush because he decided that he didn't like the color. Later that day, I complained about said customer to Warren as we sat in an empty classroom at the Maxville University campus, poring over apartment ads in the classifieds. We'd been doing this for the past week, without much luck. If the rent wasn't too much then the place was a slum, or the location was too far away to be practical.

But it seemed that today would bring the first piece of good news I'd had in a long time.

"Hey look at this," Warren said. "'Small studio, bathroom and kitchenette included'. And it's in your price range."

I took the page out of Warren's hands and read the ad for myself. "It's only a couple of blocks from here. It sounds perfect," I said excitedly as I read. Then my face fell. "Crap. 'Students only."

Warren shrugged. "Then tell them you're a student."

"What if they ask for proof or something?"

"They won't," he assured me.

"But what if they _do_?"

Warren made an impatient noise. He circled the ad with his pen and stood up. "Come on."

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

The landlady was a woman named Daisy Tate. She was about in her early thirties with waist length blonde hair, a bright yellow smock with white leggings, and a big smile. She looked just like her name.

She welcomed us into the house, a gray building that was remarkably unremarkable in its appearance.

"So you're students at the university?" she asked as we made our way up the stairs.

"Yeah," Warren said casually as my voice seized up and stubbornly refused to work. "Business Majors."

"Both of you? How wonderful!"

We stopped outside the door. "Now I should warn you- the studio's a bit small."

Ms. Tate opened the door and we went inside. She wasn't kidding about its size. Calling it a studio was being pretty generous; it was more like a large closet divided into sections. But it had a friendly atmosphere. The walls were painted a cool pastel blue and the windows on the other side of the room were large and had a nice enough view. I could already see myself living here.

Warren whistled softly and walked around, giving the place a brief once-over. He looked over at me, and I answered his silent question with a nod to let him know I liked it.

"Like I said, the place is a bit… intimate," she admitted folding her arms. "But I'm sure you two would be able to manage all right." She gave us a conspiratorial grin.

Warren and I shot each other embarrassed looks before I stammered, "Oh no! We're not-I mean, it's just going to be me."

"Oh. Well then, that should make things a lot easier right?"

Warren stared painfully at the walls. Ms. Tate smiled, blissfully oblivious of the awkward moment. "So, Miss-"

"Anna Arrian."

"So Miss Anna Arrian, do you have any pets?"

She asked me a series of questions concerning my income and my lifestyle. I tried to give her the answers she wanted to hear without being a total liar- I really wanted that studio.

The minutes passed excruciatingly, during which she checked my ID and letter of employment, among other things. Finally, after a long moment of contemplative silence, she said, "Well I think we're all set. When do you want to move in?"

I stood there, stunned. "I'm sorry, what?"

"That's great!" Warren cut in, flashing me a look. "That's- thank you. Very much."

"No problem at all! I'm sure Miss Anna Arrian and I will get along fine. You know, as long as the rent's on time," she said with a laugh. I tried to smile back.

"What just happened?" I asked Warren faintly, as we were walking out of the building.

Amusement flashed in Warren's eyes. "Congratulations Anna. You've just gotten your first apartment."


	7. Growing Up

Thanks for all your continued reviews! I really appreciate your support of this story. And thanks to **arnold the female purple pygmy puff** for her awesome beta work.

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sky High, or any of its canon characters.**

**Chapter Seven- Growing Up**

It was late when I got home that evening. It was done- I'd actually gotten my own apartment. I was happy about it of course, but also nervous about how I was going to break it to my parents. Talking about it with them was one thing, actually doing it was quite another.

When I opened the door, I was met with a house full of people. A large banner was hung up on the living room wall, depicting a smiling middle aged man with salt-and-pepper hair and light gray eyes. Pamphlets; stickers and flyers advertising Thomas Brenner's campaign for mayor were all over the place. People were standing around writing on various papers, sipping something from cups, or hovering around the makeshift snack table at the end of the living room.

"What the …?" I muttered. Politely excusing myself as I maneuvered through the crowd, I looked for Mom or Dad; pretty much whomever I saw first. A twinge of guilt went through me as I found myself hoping I'd see my mother first.

I didn't get my traitorous wish. Seemingly out of nowhere Dad appeared in front of me. His smile vanished and he looked a little taken aback as if he didn't expect to see me there.

"What's going on?" I asked, keeping my voice down. "Why are all these people here?"

"I'm volunteering for Thomas Brenner's campaign," he answered somberly. "Invited some of my old friends from Sky High to join me."

Old friends? I took a good look at my father's guests for the first time since I got home. I recognized most of them; they were all Heroes and Hero Support. True, half of them had retired due to injury like my dad or for some other reason. But there they all were- eating, drinking and reliving their former glory days.

"You couldn't tell me about this earlier? That you were going to have a whole bunch of people over this late?"

Dad narrowed his eyes. "Let me get this straight. You're giving _me_ grief about not telling you something?"

I bit the inside of my cheek, willing myself not to get into an argument in front of these people. "Where's Mom?" I asked, changing the subject.

"She stepped out for more food. She should be back soon."

"Hey Charlie! Is this your daughter?" asked a woman who came up to us, all smiles.

"Uh, yes- this is Anna," my father said, giving me a warning glance. I pretended not to see it.

"Hi, I'm Grace Tullner! It's wonderful to meet you," she said jovially as she shook my hand. "Your father's told us that you graduated this year. Congratulations!"

"Thanks," I muttered, unconsciously taking a step back. Suddenly I felt stifled with all these people around. I never liked crowds, especially in enclosed spaces. I just wanted to go upstairs to my room… while it was still mine.

"So tell me," she continued, "How do you like being on the front line, saving the world?"

I suddenly remembered Angie Waters' picture at her memorial service; the tear-streaked face of the child whose father held him at gunpoint; Evie's heartbroken look after both instances. "'S fine," I said shortly.

Grace gave me a confused smile, but didn't seem to take the hint. "I remember my first years on the job. It's always a little hard at first, but after a while the media exposure really picks up. Don't worry, you'll be making headlines in no time just like your dad-"

"You think that's what I care about- getting famous?" I interjected sharply. "Are you serious lady?"

"Anna!" Dad said, shocked. "Apologize right now."

"But-"

"Now!" he ordered.

I glared at him incredulously, but I did as he asked.

"Grace, I'm so sorry," he father told her as I turned around and left. "She's usually not like this."

"It's perfectly fine, I-"

That was as much as I heard before I headed to my room. Later, I would probably feel bad about my outburst. But at the moment I didn't care. I couldn't believe that Grace Tullner woman would say something like that knowing what the job _was_… knowing how much evil there was out there.

I kicked the wall, which did nothing but hurt a lot. I cursed at the pain, then sank down on my bed and buried my face in my hands. What was going on with me? I never acted this way, never felt this angry over something that wasn't that big a deal. I wondered if the stress of the job was finally getting to me. I hoped that wasn't the case. I'd barely been active a month now.

"Trying to drive out the campaigners, I hear."

Mom came in, taking off her jacket and sitting beside me. She didn't look angry. If anything, she seemed amused.

"Sorry," I mumbled anyway.

She smiled. "Don't be. Grace can be very overbearing. But you didn't hear that from me."

I grinned at that, then grew somber. "I found a place today. Signed the paperwork, paid up and everything."

I thought it best to just have out with it in the end. There was no sugarcoating something like that.

Mom's face fell and she exhaled shakily. "Oh, Anna. I wish you'd have at least discussed it with me first."

"So you could try to talk me out of it?" I shook my head. "Nah. This way was better."

We didn't say anything else for a while, and I knew Mom was quietly trying to come to terms with the fact that I was actually leaving.

"When… when are you moving out?"

"Um, this weekend I think. Yeah."

Mom nodded. She stood up and put on her composed expression, which didn't fool me one bit. "Dinner?" she suggested.

"Bed," I confirmed, hearing the weariness in my own voice.

She'd go and tell my father what I'd done, I knew. I wondered how he'd take it; probably as stoically as he took the fact that I was leaving in the first place. Maybe the incident with Warren was the last straw and he'd washed his hands of me.

Maybe he didn't care at all.

That weekend, I was as good as my word. The move to my new place took less time than I expected. Mom helped me pack. I left behind a lot of things, like most of my books and poster charts from school. I took only the necessities as the place was so small and as a result we were able to take everything in one trip. Dad sat out on the front porch and watched the proceedings. He didn't say a word the whole time.

When we were ready to go, I decided to swallow my pride and go up to him. He fiddled with his cane, not looking at me.

"I'm going now."

"Yeah," was all he said, nodding.

I glanced back at my mother, who was standing by the car. She gave me an encouraging nod.

I cleared my throat. "You know, I didn't choose…" I sighed, then bent over and kissed his cheek. "Bye Dad. I'll come over and visit soon."

"Goodbye, Anna," he said quietly. He still wouldn't look at me.

Sighing, I turned and went down the steps. I took in my mother's apologetic look and shrugged, pretending his reaction didn't hurt nearly as much as it really did.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

We were approaching my new place. Gloomily I remembered my dad's lone figure as we pulled away from the house when Mom suddenly said, "Anna, your friends are here."

"What?" I looked up. There in front of the building were the twins, and Warren. They hadn't seen us yet.

We drove up right beside them. Evie was telling Warren, "So you want to put just a small cut of garlic in the oil and let it simmer- oh hi, Anna! Hi, Mrs. Arrian!"

"Guys, what are you doing here?"

"We've come to help you move," Evan said with blatant forced enthusiasm. "Yep, nothing better we'd love to do on a Saturday morning than- ow!"

Evie had punched him in the arm. "I told you to knock it off," she hissed.

Ignoring the exchange, I said, "Mom, this is Evan, Evie's brother."

"Hello Evan."

"Hi, Mrs. Arrian," Evan mumbled, rubbing his arm. At least he had the decency to look embarrassed.

"And this is Warren," I added tentatively.

Warren threw me a semi-panicked glance as my mother took his hand and shook it. "It's nice to finally meet you," she said warmly.

"You too," he said, after a second's hesitation.

Warren and Evan came and picked up the largest boxes. Evie and I got the rest. We refused to let Mom carry anything.

When we got to my place and opened the door, I immediately noticed a small burgundy couch in the center of the main area.

"Where'd this come from?"

"I brought it," Mom said simply. Seeing my surprised look, she explained. "When you gave me the address, I came over with it."

"Where'd you get it?"

"I had it in storage, with some other things. It belonged to your father and me when we first started out. I knew it'd still be good for something."

I smiled at her gratefully. "Thanks."

It took a little less than an hour to get everything out of the car and into my new place. When it was all over, there was even less room to move around. Mom ordered us a pizza which I knew was her way of saying thank you to my friends for the help they'd given.

After lunch she announced that she had to leave. She told Warren and Evan it was nice to meet them both. Then she gave me a hug which lasted just long enough to be embarrassing. She pulled away and left quickly, but not before I noticed that her eyes were shining with unshed tears. I stared after her, suddenly struck with the awful feeling that I'd made a terrible mistake.

Evie was tugging at my sleeve. "Let's get this stuff organized," she suggested.

I watched her as she went to the nearest boxes opened them, making awestruck noises as if they were Christmas presents. She seemed to be doing all right since Angie's death and our last heroic efforts, more like her old cheerful self.

The twins helped me unpack what they could. We were just finishing up when Warren excused himself for a minute and went downstairs. When he came back, he was carrying a decent sized box and looking kind of pleased with himself.

"What's that?" I asked slowly.

Warren set the box on the small table against the wall. Whatever was inside sounded heavy.

"Open it," was all he said. So I did.

Inside was a small television set.

"Surprise!" Evie said happily.

"We figured you wouldn't have one," Warren added he lifted it out of the box and started setting it up.

"I- I don't know what to say," I told them.

"Well, don't get too excited. It's not like it's new or anything," Evan said matter-of-factly.

Evie rolled her eyes at her brother. "Pay no attention to the idiot behind the curtain," she said, giving her brother a small shove. "We found it on the sidewalk near our house. It didn't work at first, but Warren and Evan fixed it. I helped," she added proudly.

Evan scoffed. "You scraped old candle wax off the top."

"Would you shut up!" she immediately shot back. "_Anyway_… just consider it a late birthday present from all of us."

"Thanks guys."

"You're totally welcome," Evan said.

Evie gripped me in one of her bone-crushing embraces. "You're gonna be all right here, you know," she whispered in my ear. Over her shoulder I saw Warren give me a nod, as if he'd heard what she'd said.

I looked at my friends, who had all done so much for me already. It seemed kind of insignificant that all I could tell them was a simple 'thank you'.

But looking at their expressions, I knew it was somehow enough.

x

x

x

x

x

x

"Hello, Anna Arrian!"

I paused in the midst of pushing my key into the lock. My landlady Daisy Tate was coming up the stairs wearing a bright yellow toga and white flowers in her hair.

"Oh, hi Ms. Tate. Going to a costume party?"

"No," she said, beaming as brightly as ever. "Why do you ask?"

"Um… no reason."

She shrugged lightly, the bright grin never leaving her face. "So how do you like the studio?"

"It's great. Really great, thanks."

"Good, good. Well, the reason I'm here is that your mother came over while you were out today. She dropped off a letter for you." She reached into the folds of her toga and pulled out an envelope.

"Thank you Ms. Tate," I said, taking it.

"Oh, enough with the Ms. Tate already. Call me Daisy," she admonished good naturedly. "Good night."

"Good night… Daisy," I said a little awkwardly, as I turned the key in the lock and went inside.

Two weeks had passed since I first moved in. My apartment was now looking more like the place I lived in than a large closet where I kept all my stuff. I'd more or less packed everything away. There was still some clutter here and there but I chalked that all up to the mess of a settled residence. It might not have been the largest or cleanest space in the world, but it was mine.

My friends came around often enough. Evie visited me, though not as much as she used to. Her mom, who was a nurse, had gotten her a job at the nursing home as a receptionist. I wasn't too sure what Evan's cover was or even if he had one, but he came over if he was in the neighborhood, sometimes with Warren in tow. Evan would mutter a half-hearted greeting, then park himself in front of the TV and tinker with whatever piece of gadgetry he happened to have with him at the time. I knew Evan wasn't trying to be rude- he was just in his own little world most of the time.

Warren visited me more than anyone, though it may have been more out of convenience than cordiality. My mother, certain I was wasting away in 'that tiny place' as she put it, came over nearly every day with a casserole, or a meatloaf, or… something. 'Coincidentally', Warren's visits were timed just so I happened to have a freshly delivered hot meal that was more than enough for two.

But I hardly minded that. I soon came to discover that living on your own was a pretty lonely experience if you didn't have an active social life.

I took off my coat and switched on the TV. Settling on the couch, I examined the envelope Daisy had given me. I almost never got mail of any kind, except for one or two late notifications from the library and the usual junk flyers. But here it was, with my name typed on the front.

Curious, I ripped it open and began reading.

_Dear Ms. Arrian,_

_I am writing to inform you that your services are requested at an upcoming gala in honor of mayoral candidate Thomas Brenner, which will take place on the 14__th__ of October at the Crystal Hall. Given the unique nature of Mr. Brenner's history, he will require security of a specialized nature. _

_Please speak your RSVP immediately._

_Regards,_

_M. Horton._

_Secretary for the Thomas Brenner Campaign._

_P.S. Although this will be a high profile event we trust that this matter will be kept in the __**strictest confidence**__. Thank you for your co-operation._

I stared at the letter. I'd been offered a moonlighting gig for Thomas Brenner; that much was clear. But the last part of the letter confused me. Speak my RSVP? That must have been a typo or something. Still, there was no return address. Shrugging, I did as the letter asked.

"Um…yes? I accept?"

The moment I spoke the words, the letter immediately began to yellow and curl up at the edges. Shocked at the sudden change, I dropped it with a gasp. It aged so rapidly in its descent that by the time it reached the ground, it was nothing more than a puff of dust.

………………………………

"Hello?"

"Hey Dad, it's me."

"Oh. Hi."

"How're you?"

"I'm good. Yourself?"

"I'm doing all right."

"Well….um, your mother and I were about to head out for a movie, so…"

"Sure, Dad. I'll just call you -"

_Click._

"-later."

………………………………………

That was pretty much the template of every conversation with my father. It used to reduce me to tears at first, but now I'd just settled into being comfortably disappointed. I sank down into my couch, staring at the phone glumly and wondering when the ice storm was finally going to blow over.

There was a knock at the door. I glanced at the clock- it was after ten. Curious, I got up and opened the door to find Warren standing there.

"Hey, what's… oh my god, what happened to you?" I asked in dismay when I saw the blood on his right arm.

Warren placed his bag and text books on the table. "Some idiot tried to mug one of my professors. I stopped him, but he managed to cut me a little. Do you have a paper towel?"

"A paper towel? Seriously? Geez…" I immediately went to the bathroom and came back with a bottle of hydrogen peroxide, some bandages, a bowl of water and a clean cloth. I pointedly ignored his frown.

"Anna seriously-"

"Yeah I get it, tough guy. Just indulge me, okay?"

He sat down reluctantly and rolled up his sleeve. It was a fairly deep slice, roughly three inches long on the outer part of his forearm.

"This looks pretty bad, Warren. You might need stitches," I commented as I began to clean his wound.

Warren smirked. "You should see the other guy."

I gave him a reprimanding look and he sighed. "Look, I've had worse. Trust me; I don't need to go to the hospital."

"Whatever you say," I murmured. I poured some of the hydrogen peroxide into the wound. Warren gave a soft hiss.

I carefully bandaged his arm while he fiddled with the odds and ends on my already cluttered table. I was a self-confessed pack rat and moving into an even smaller place didn't help matters.

"What's this?" he asked.

I looked up to see him holding an old pamphlet. It was the one my parents had given me ages ago for laser scar removal. A strange embarrassment stole through me and I reached over and took it away from him.

"It's nothing," I said quickly. I stood up, taking the supplies I used to treat his wound and putting them in their respective places. When I returned, Warren was rolling his sleeve back down, looking at me oddly.

"What?" I asked.

"Were you thinking about doing that?" he asked, gesturing to the pamphlet that now lay abandoned on the table. He made no attempt to skirt around the issue.

"Of course not. My parents, they gave me that thing. I told them I wasn't interested."

"Why not?"

I stared at him darkly. "What do you mean why not?"

Warren heard my tone and narrowed his eyes. "Am I over-stepping my boundaries here?"

That deflated me a little. I sighed and turned away, suddenly self conscious of my face for the first time in months.

"No, you're not. I'm sorry."

I went to sit on the couch. Warren joined me. Before us, the small television held our reflection in semi-monochrome shadows.

"I thought about it sometimes. Getting rid of the scars. Every time I look in the mirror, I just… want them gone. But I _can't_."

"Why not?" Warren asked again. His voice wasn't accusing or impatient, just curious.

My parents had asked the same thing, and I had no answer for them. Some part of me knew that I couldn't get them to understand, because they couldn't possibly understand the weight of how I'd received them.

But Warren was different. He had been there when it happened; when it all spiraled into the horrible tragedy that brought us to this point.

I closed my eyes. "I guess it'd be like… like trying to forget. Pretending it all never happened- Paul, Jana, everything."

"Is that what you really think? That you'd be betraying their memory somehow?"

I finally brought myself to look at Warren, who did nothing to disguise his worry.

"I know how it sounds-"

"Do you? Anna, you think that you owe these guys some kind of penance for what happened. You don't. I don't mean to sound cold or anything, but Jana, Lisa, Paul… they made their own choices- you said so yourself."

I looked away, trying to think of a suitable response, a measure of reasoning that wouldn't make me sound ridiculous or pathetic. But before I could, Warren turned my face so that I was looking right at him again.

"Hey," he said softly. "You did what you had to. It's time to let it go."

There was that familiar intensity in his eyes again, but this time I couldn't look away. Something had shifted almost imperceptibly and at first I didn't know what it was. Then the realization came to me- the walls, the cramped couch, Warren… they were all too close.

The alarm clock on the wall blared out, scaring me half to death. It was eleven o' clock.

Warren stood up. He swallowed, his eyes carefully averted. "It's getting late. I should uh, head home."

"Right… right."

I walked him to the door, where he picked up his books at the nearby table. "See you around, Arrian. Thanks for patching me up." Then he was gone.

I spent the rest of the evening clearing the clutter of bits and pieces from my desk, and washing up the dishes in what must have been the smallest kitchenette ever created. The TV was on some late night talk show in the background; the sound of a distant car alarm came in through the window. It was a typical night in my new place.

Only not really.

I locked up for the evening, thinking about what Warren had said concerning my scars. And gradually, my thoughts left the conversation… and turned to him.

It wasn't until I was in my bed and drifting off to sleep that I realized he'd called me Arrian.


	8. Thomas Brenner: For a Better Tomorrow

Yay for all the lovely reviews! Thank you so much, guys. And big thanks to **arnold the female purple pygmypuff** for her lovely beta work!

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sky High, or any of its canon characters.**

**Chapter Eight- Thomas Brenner: For a Better Tomorrow**

_What Maxville needs is a mayor willing to get things done for the betterment of our city and its people, no matter what the cost, _the TV blared out. _ As mayor, I intend to do just that. My new plans involve a substantial funding increase for our children's public schools, along with several new hospitals throughout the city which will aid in-_

"Okay you guys, lunch hour's over," Mr. Fredericks said as he walked in.

Sighing, my co-workers and I went back to work. Mr. Fredericks had recently gotten a television for the employees' lounge in an effort to 'boost morale'. It was certainly a welcome change from the drab four walls we usually looked at.

I'd asked my boss for more hours at Maxville's Value Mart. He'd moved some shifts around so that I could work longer hours, but it wasn't enough to cover the rent. I would have to find an additional job soon.

I'd applied for various jobs in similar retail positions, but without much luck. Full-time employment usually required experience and tertiary degrees (neither or which I had at the moment) and the rest called for hours that coincided with my existing job.

I also had other things on my plate. Not too long after Thomas Brenner's mysterious letter, I'd received a follow-up phone call from a man who introduced himself as Marion Horton, Mr. Brenner's secretary. His voice had a horrible raspy quality to it, as if he'd been smoking cigarettes for much too long. He gave me further details about the Brenner gala, including the fact that I should arrive about an hour prior to the actual start of the event. Before we hung up he stressed once again that I maintain absolute silence on my involvement with the event. I gave him my assurance that I would.

I finished my two consecutive shifts at work, then clocked out. I was almost to the bus stop when I heard a familiar voice shouting my name.

"Anna! Anna!"

I turned around. My parents were making their way across the street towards me. Mom was grinning widely, with Dad at her side. I tried not to look at him too closely.

"Sweetheart," Mom said, hugging me. "How are you? Have you eaten?"

"I'm all right," I told her as she pulled away. "Hello Dad," I added soberly.

"Hello," he answered, with a wan smile that was clearly forced.

"We were just going to that nice Italian restaurant down the street. We'd love for you to join us," my mother said brightly, determined to pretend that everything was all right.

But I was too tired to play along. "I've actually had a pretty long day. I just want to get some sleep."

"Oh. Well, another time then." Mom sounded so disappointed and I felt awful. But having to face the look in my father's eyes for a whole evening was more than I could bear.

My mother wasn't one to give up easily. She turned to Dad and said, "Honey, I wanted to take a quick look in this little boutique before we went to dinner. Why don't you stay with Anna for a bit and catch up?"

It was then that I turned to look at him at last. Part of me kind of wanted that; a few minutes with my father could be just the thing to try and work things out with him. But I looked into his eyes and saw his hesitation, and I knew.

He still hadn't forgiven me.

"Mom, I…I _really_ have to go. I'm sorry. You guys enjoy your dinner, okay?" Without waiting for an answer, I quickly walked away to catch the approaching bus.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"How about flowers?"

"Too cliché."

"A gift certificate is always nice."

"And impersonal."

"I know! A hat. A hat would be cool."

"A hat? What is this, the fifties?"

"Well, _ouch_."

Evie and Warren had come to visit me over the weekend. Evan had gone to some tech convention out of the city and was going to be away for a couple of days. Evie was throwing out gift ideas for her mother's upcoming birthday and we were trying to help her out.

It was the first time I'd seen Warren since the night he'd come over injured earlier that week. His arm was still bandaged but it didn't seem to bother him. When he arrived we kept to normal conversation- school, our jobs, our _other_ job. Nevertheless I felt a nagging awkwardness that wouldn't leave. It didn't help matters that Warren would glance at me every so often with a strange kind of contemplation. I didn't know why, but I got the impression that there was something he wanted to say to me.

Warren absently turned the pages of one of his ever-present textbooks while telling me about a paper he had to do for a philosophy course. I tried to give him suggestions for a thesis, but my words sounded distracted and monosyllabic.

And he still kept giving me that look.

Evie appeared about half an hour later. We were still discussing potential birthday gifts when Warren checked his watch. "Oh man, I have a lab session in twenty minutes. I gotta go," he said, standing up.

"Try to think of some gift ideas for me, will you?" Evie said.

"Sure thing," he promised. Then he left.

But not for long.

A few seconds later Warren opened the door and poked his head in. "You guys do know I'm coming back, right?" To me he added hesitantly, "I'd like you to help me put my World History report together."

I scoffed in mock offense. "So that's all I'm good for, huh? Helping you with your class work?"

"Of course not," he said sincerely, but there was a mischievous gleam in his eyes. "There's always the free meals." He ducked the compulsory pillow I threw at him, laughing.

"My mother didn't bring any food today, just so you know," I said in an effort to bait him.

But Warren wasn't fooled. "Oh, she will. It's Saturday; that's beef casserole, right?" He gave a lopsided grin. "See you later."

I was only half surprised that Warren remembered. Smiling, I began to clear up the place in anticipation of my mother's visit. And as I did so, I was struck with the unnerving realization of how much I was looking forward to seeing him again.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Classic jazz music floated throughout Crystal Hall. Its name was no accident- several colossal crystal chandeliers hung overhead, capturing the stark light and showering it over everything in impossibly bright facets. Against the walls banners hung depicting the famous slogan, _Thomas Brenner: for a better tomorrow_.

The gala was in full swing. It was a very formal affair; the kind of party that always made me worry that I had something stuck in my teeth. The silver dress I was wearing only served to make me feel even more self conscious as I silently watched the proceedings. Trays of hors'd oeuvres and champagne floated among the glitterati and high-profile politicians who were in attendance. I didn't know much about Maxville's upscale society, but one thing was certain- almost everyone who was anyone was present.

Glancing around the room earlier I quickly saw that I wasn't the only one who'd been called on to moonlight: nearly half of my graduating class was here as well as about a dozen well seasoned Heroes. I glanced at Evie who was sauntering through the crowd wearing a fiery red number. Like the other Heroes gathered tonight, we were supposed to blend in so as not to upset the guests but keep alert for anything suspicious.

"These things are ridiculously good," Evie announced as she came up with a large server's tray. "It might be just me, but I taste-" she chewed thoughtfully, "-cinnamon."

I looked at her in alarm. "Evie, where did you get that?"

"I took it off one of the guys. Told him I'd help him out. Want one?"

"Uh, no. Thank you."

Evie shrugged and popped another one in her mouth. At that point a waiter came up, looking affronted.

"May I help you with that _ma'am_?" he asked, with his hand out expectantly.

"No you may not," Evie said curtly as if daring him to make a scene. He glared at Evie and she glared back, gripping the tray even more tightly. After a second or two the waiter seemed to decide the mini quiches weren't worth it. With an exasperated sigh, he dropped his hand and walked away without another word. I took several deep breaths, working my way through the embarrassment.

My eyes swept the crowd. Things seemed to be going smoothly; everyone was milling around one another, eating, drinking and laughing. So far, so good.

I noticed Warren at the other end of the room by the south exit, looking around in a casual but alert manner. We met each other's eyes, and I went over with Evie to say hi.

"Someone cleaned up nicely tonight," I said, referring to his three-piece suit.

Warren flashed a smile. "Thanks. You two don't look so bad yourself."

Evie glowed at the compliment. "I know, right?" She looked around. "Isn't this a great party? Want a mini quiche?"

"No thanks," Warren said in horrid fascination as Evie cradled the tray contentedly.

"Your loss," Evie said as she looked around. "I guess Evan's here, huh? He left the house earlier, but wouldn't tell me where he was going. The whole anonymity thing, you know."

"Yeah, Evan's here somewhere. He's checking the fire escapes and back rooms, making sure everyone are where they're supposed to be."

Evie's smile vanished. "By himself?"

"Well…yeah."

Evie fixed him with a slow deliberate look that nearly made me flinch.

"I should check on him actually," Warren said, with an uncomfortable look at Evie. "I'll see you guys later."

"What was that about?" I asked, when Warren left.

"He shouldn't leave Evan alone while they're working," Evie muttered somberly. "I've told him a hundred times-"

"I think Evan can take of himself," I said. I kept my eyes on the crowd but I felt her gaze on me.

"Maybe," she said softly. "But he's still my little brother."

I turned to look at her then. Her expression was resolute, but her eyes betrayed her worry. Evie and Evan seemed almost always at odds with one another. But when it came down to it, Evie was very protective of him.

The whine of a microphone resounded throughout the room and we all fell silent. A tall pretty woman was at the podium, flashing her white teeth.

"Hello and good evening everyone. My name is Alina Posiet, and I am the coordinator of this event," she said in a thick Russian accent. "And on behalf of the Brenner campaign I would like to thank you for joining us on this special night to support a very special man."

There was a round of applause. Alina highlighted a few of Mr. Brenner's many achievements including obtaining a doctorate in Biophysics as well as the presidential office in the Economic and Social Council at the United Nations. Beside me, Evie was listening intently as she devoured hors d' oeuvres with an almost intimidating dedication.

"And now for the man himself, please help me welcome Mr. Thomas Brenner!"

A tall man that I immediately recognized from all the campaign fliers walked up on stage to an almost overwhelming ovation. He kissed Alina on both cheeks before stepping up to the microphone.

"Thank you Miss Posiet, for that wonderful and _honest_ introduction," he told her, to light laughter. To the audience he said, "Good evening everyone. I trust that you are all enjoying yourselves?"

Brenner went on to thank everyone for their support and donations to his campaign for mayor of Maxville, and how because of it he was now on the official ballot. As he continued his speech, which was occasionally punctuated by spirited applause, I found myself strangely inspired by his message.

Brenner was very eloquent; outlining the many ways he would change Maxville into a shining example by which other cities could aspire to. If anyone else had been saying the things he said, it would have come off as a load of incredulous nonsense. But I believed him despite his seemingly impossible promises. Everything about Thomas Brenner radiated an inexorable confidence that would not tolerate failure of any kind.

He concluded his speech with a final word of thanks and the sincere hope that we would continue to enjoy our evening, to a deafening round of applause.

"I think I get it," Evie said, finishing off the last of the quiches and putting the tray onto a nearby table. "It's not just a tribute. See all the alcohol? He's loosening them up for more donations."

It certainly seemed so. Men in similarly tailored tuxedos were going around passing out envelopes, presumably for people to put their checks in.

Mr. Brenner himself was working the crowd, shaking hands and being generous with photo ops. With him were Alina Posiet- beautiful and charming as she greeted everyone- and another man. He looked about in his sixties, with hair too black to be believable and the most colorless eyes I had ever seen. In the crowd of happy party-goers that surrounded Brenner he stood out, solemn and unsmiling.

He seemed to sense me staring and turned to look at me. He narrowed his eyes directly upon my scars in a way that was decidedly inappropriate. I squared my shoulders in annoyance at his blatant rudeness and tried to ignore him.

Mr. Brenner came over to us, exuding warmth and confidence. "You two lovely ladies must be Miss Arrian and Miss Domagas."

"It's nice to meet you sir." I shook his hand. "I heard your speech up there. It was… inspiring."

"I'm glad you think so. And I meant every word of it." Leaning closer to me, he continued in a conspiratorial tone, "It's time for a reform in this city. The world is much progressing faster than most politicians can keep up with. But not too fast for me. I have a much greater, much _brighter_ vision for Maxville…" Mr. Brenner trailed off and his eyes took on a peaceful far off quality, probably lost in his reform vision. Evie and I exchanged curious glances.

Then suddenly he was back in the present, as quickly as he had left. He looked back at us and smiled.

"Thank you so much for attending, ladies. I hope you continue to enjoy your evening." He turned to leave, then stopped. "You know Miss Arrian, Charlie and I were friends in high school. He was a good man, always willing to help someone out. Tell him I'll get in touch soon, will you?"

"Yes…of course," I said, my smile slipping a little at the thought of my estranged father.

Evie and I watched him move on to the other guests. "He seems like a very straightforward guy," Evie commented. "I think I'd vote for him."

"I'm afraid you're going to have to wait another few years for that."

"Oh. Right," she said, a little deflated. She deliberately put a steamed shrimp into her mouth, chewing thoughtfully. I blinked at her; I wasn't even sure where she got it.

A waiter came over with a tray of drinks and I tensed. "Champagne?" he offered.

"Absolutely!" Evie said, happily taking a glass.

"No thank you!" I said sharply, with a disapproving look at Evie. I took the glass from her and set it back on the tray. To the server I added, "Don't you guys ask for ID?"

Stammering an apology, the man left. Evie folded her arms muttering, "Spoil-sport."

I rolled my eyes. "Never mind we're underage. We're working a _job_."

Evie simply shook her head.

Suddenly the ground shuddered. The live music faltered, then stopped. People began to murmur.

"What was that?" Evie asked, looking around. "An earthquake?"

Before I could answer, the entire room suddenly jolted downwards, stopping almost abruptly as it began. The windows were the first thing to go, shattering under the weight of their bent frames; the second were the lights, then the massive chandeliers, which crashed to the ground; and lastly the collective calm of the people. The horrifying reality set in: the structure had been compromised.

Screaming, everyone began rushing for the exits. It was only a matter of time before people were going to get trampled. I acted quickly. I dived behind an overturned table, emerging seconds later as White Star. Racing towards the people who had fallen, I tried to rescue as many as I could. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Scarlett doing the same.

Then I stumbled as the room jerked even lower. I looked up at the nearest exit. The door frame had cracked heavily and was on the verge of collapse. The guests didn't seem to care.

"Get away from there!" I yelled, but my voice was lost in the deafening panicked screams. I thrust out my hands and projected a beam of light that pushed about a dozen people back from the exit.

But I couldn't stop all of them.

The doorway caved in, despite my best efforts to keep it intact. I turned away, unable to look. Nothing stopped me however from hearing several screams abruptly cut short.

The rest of the people rushed for the remaining exits. The door frames looked sturdy enough, but I knew that that could change in an instant.

Looking around, I saw the blown out windows. They had been full length, spanning from the ceiling to the floor.

I ran to the window and looked down. Those who had managed to escape in those crucial first few minutes were there, backing away from the ominously creaking structure. It was too high for anyone to jump safely.

An idea flashed into my mind and I acted on it immediately.

Leaning out of the window, I deployed my hook onto the slanting roof of the building. It wasn't the most responsible thing I'd ever done, but there was nothing for it. I jumped, sliding downwards toward the ground at a rapid pace. At the last minute however, the roof slanted even further and my hook lost purchase- I was falling.

But four years of physical training at Sky High kicked in. I bent my knees the moment I landed; tucking in my shoulder and rolled onto my side so that I was back on my feet in a matter of seconds.

Powering up again immediately, I told the crowd of people that managed to escape to get back. I had never done this before, and I wasn't even sure that it would work. But I was all out of options.

Raising my arms, I opened them wide and concentrated. My light power spread out and thinned several feet across the lawn. It felt stable enough.

"Jump!" I called out urgently to the people still trapped on the upper level.

Hesitating and terrified, they hovered at the shattered window; nobody moved.

"There's not much time, please!"

A low groan came from the very foundations of the buildings and several people cried out in horror.

"_Jump_!" I screamed.

Suddenly two people were propelled out of the window as if pushed from behind. They fell screaming, and I tensed.

But I caught them… they hovered, suspended in the light energy I created for a split second before I gently lowered them to the ground. Glancing upwards, I saw two fliers helping me with the rest. Where on earth had they _been_?

They told me later that the police arrived in less than seven minutes. After what I'd witnessed I found that hard to believe. In the chaos, I'd caught a glimpse of Mr. Brenner, and Alina. She was sobbing as she nursed a bleeding arm; Brenner was staring at the remnants of what once was Crystal Hall in quiet horror. Then his personal security whisked them both into a nearby townhouse car and drove away.

We continued to help the wounded and directed authorities toward the dead. Scarlett asked me in frantic whispers if I'd seen her brother.

But I hadn't. I hadn't seen Warren either, which worried me no end. But I didn't let on to her. The entire situation was bad enough.

I did my best to keep my voice level and maintain my professionalism. Scarlett did the same, although I noticed her hands were shaking slightly. There was a smear of blood on the side of her face, which gave the impression that her eye makeup was running heavily.

When we'd done all we could Scarlett and I went looking for Phoenix and Karbon. The minutes passed and our fear increased several-fold. We asked other Heroes if they'd seen them. It seemed no one had.

Then in a voice thick with relief Scarlett whispered, "There they are."

And there they were. Several people stumbled out of the swiftly declining building along with two dark costumed Heroes. One of them had a fiery red phoenix emblazoned on his chest; the other was cloaked in black, with red industrial goggles that gleamed eerily.

When they approached Scarlett made to embrace her brother, but I stopped her.

"Remember who we are," I said softly as a policeman came up to us.

"What the hell happened in there?"

"I don't know," I said truthfully. "The building just… collapsed."

"Was it a bomb?"

"No," Karbon said. "There was no explosion. The structural demolition wasn't instantaneous, it... well, I'm not exactly sure what it was. But I'll find out," he added confidently.

"I hope you do," the police said grimly, before turning to the rest of us. "Did you get everyone out?"

It was a question without much hope in it. We all fell silent.

"No," Phoenix said at last. His voice was heavy, resigned.

Suddenly a commotion erupted a few feet away. Several police officers scrambled back into their vehicles and sped off.

"What's happening?" I said in alarm.

The policeman turned to the nearest officer who was rushing past and stopped him.

"Luther, what's going on?"

Officer Luther was white-faced, his voice filled with horrified urgency. "10-80, Marcy! Three-fifty South Road at the MCF! Oh my god…they're out!"


	9. Loss

Many apologies for the late update- I'll try to do better in the future. And thank you for all the beautiful reviews- I hope you'll keep them coming. Lastly, my heartfelt appreciation goes out to **arnold the female purple pygmy puff** for her beta work!

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sky High, or any of its canon characters.**

**Chapter Nine- Loss**

Warren, the twins and I were standing at the roadside, about a half mile from the Maxville Correctional Facility. The road itself was swarmed with fire trucks, ambulances, police cars, detainment trucks and a host of other official vehicles. The area was sealed off- no one was getting out, or in.

We had reassumed our civilian personas, even though our formal attire looked a little worse for wear. But that was more than secondary next to the travesty that lay before us.

Though it was dark, we could see the smoke billowing over the road in heavy black clouds. Dozens of officials milled around frantically, trying to do several things at once.

After a few moments of reluctance I finally ventured a look at Warren. He stood unmoving, taking in everything with a calm disbelief. I couldn't blame him; the whole thing seemed surreal.

A little while before dawn Warren spoke up suddenly, startling us all out of our despairing reverie.

"Evan, can you get us there?" he asked quietly. He tossed a meaningful glance in his sidekick's direction.

Evan understood. He took a step forward and gazed at the horizon, as if waiting for something. Presently a wind picked up, carrying a particularly thick cloud of black smoke our way. Evan gave a sharp sigh and immediately, the smoke seemed to spread and thicken around us.

"Let's go," I heard Warren say.

We moved silently through the vehicles and officials that cordoned off the road. The smoke seemed to trail after and surround us. We weren't completely hidden, only less noticeable. But with the emergency at hand, that was all we needed.

Warren and Evan walked in quick strides; Evie and I hurried to keep up. When we were close enough, Evan powered down and the smoke began to lift. Soon the Maxville Correctional Facility came into view.

More than half of the structure had been completely destroyed. Parts of the place were still on fire; smoke continued to pour out from what remained of the building. Firefighters, EMTs and other officials were swarming the area collecting evidence, interrogating survivors and witnesses…and carrying away the bodies.

Quiet shock flooded Warren's face. It finally hit him.

The dawn came, revealing the devastation by degrees until it lay stark and horrific in the full light of morning. Warren was visibly trying to hold it together, and I racked my brain for something to say, anything that would make things even the slightest bit better. But I knew there was nothing.

"Hey! You four!"

We turned around to see an officer coming toward us. "You people shouldn't be here."

"What happened?" Warren asked, ignoring this.

"I'm sorry, but you are going to have the leave the area-"

"Who did this?" Warren pressed on forcefully. "How many got out?"

"I said you have to leave-"

"_Just tell me what happened_!"

The officer glared at Warren. "Sir, if you don't leave right now, I will arrest you!"

Enraged, Warren lunged forward, and the man reached for his handcuffs. But Evan grabbed Warren by the shoulders at the same I squared myself in front of him.

"Hey- easy," Evan said, as Warren angrily tried to shake him off.

"We're going, okay?" I told the officer. "We're leaving right now." I turned back to Warren who was steadily seething at the man. "We have to go."

"Anna, my _father_-" his voice broke on the last word. He turned a desperate look on the burning remains of the Maxville Correctional Facility.

"I know," I said. "But there's nothing we can do here. I'm sorry… but we have to leave."

He closed his eyes momentarily. When he opened them again he seemed calmer. With a last sullen look at the officer, he turned around and walked away.

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None of us spoke for the rest of the return journey. I suppose we were all trying to take it in, the terrible events of the past few hours. Beside me, Warren was gripping the steering wheel, staring at the road with unfocused eyes. Every now and then he would glance into the rear view mirror. What he was looking at exactly, I could only guess.

Eventually, we reached the city. It was still early enough so that only a few people were on the street. But soon- very soon- everyone would know of the terrible things that had happened in the night.

I was roused from these thoughts by the fact that we were slowing down. We were in front of the twins' house.

"I guess the mayor's going to tap every Hero in the city for this one," Warren said thoughtfully. "We'll have to be on standby. Evan-" he paused, turning around to face him. "I'm sorry about earlier."

Evan smiled reassuringly. "Forget about it."

"You guys should get some sleep while you can," I told them.

I watched them as they walked towards their home. They were almost to the door when it was pushed open. Their mother Olivia came out and pulled them both into her arms.

Warren drove me home next. He pulled up in front of my apartment building and switched off the engine. For a while we sat there, not moving or saying anything. Then on a sudden suspicion, I asked him, "You _are_ going home now, right? You need to rest."

"I can't," he murmured. "I have to call the hospitals and find out if they've admitted him, if he's alive, or..." He stopped, and a sudden realization came over his face. "Mom. I have to find her."

"Let me help you then," I said, disconcerted at how lost he looked. "I'll help you make the calls, and we'll find him-"

"No, you can't," he said with surprising force. He colored slightly, then continued in a softer tone, "I have to- I need to handle this myself."

"Warren-"

"Things are going to get pretty bad, and a lot of people are going to need you," he said quietly. "Please… _please_ promise me you won't get involved in this."

I looked at him curiously, but decided not to pursue it. "All right," I said reluctantly, "But keep in touch okay? Let me know what's going on."

There was a shadow of his old smile again, which was a small comfort to me. "I will," he said.

When I got into my apartment, the very sight of my couch made me want to collapse. I managed to make the two steps it took to get to it before I passed out cold.

I felt like I'd been asleep for only a few seconds before I was awakened by the phone ringing. Groaning I sat up and glanced at the clock- seven-thirty. I'd slept for little over an hour.

I picked up the receiver and was surprised to hear the hoarseness my voice when I said, "Mmmph… hello?"

"Anna?! Oh my god- where have you been?"

"Mom?"

"We were calling you all night! We saw the news, what happened at the Brenner event, and the- the prison! And then-"

"Mom, calm down! I'm all right, okay? I'm sorry I didn't call you." I shook my head, forcing myself to wake up properly.

"We were so worried," my mother continued as if she hadn't heard me. "Your father's gone out to find you."

"He has?"

"Yes. Sweetheart, I- I gave him your address to see if you'd gone home."

I froze. "Dad's coming over?"

There was a knock at the door. I looked over at it numbly. "I have to go," I said faintly. "I'll call you later."

"Please be careful, Anna."

"I will."

There was another knock. I hung up the phone and went to the door. Steeling myself, I opened it.

My father was standing there looking very uncomfortable. The moment he saw me his eyes widened. Automatically I glanced down. I was still wearing my dress, torn and filthy from the events of last night.

I could tell at a glance that it was unsalvageable. Folding my arms didn't help much, so I just asked awkwardly, "Um… come in?"

He nodded briskly and stepped inside. His eyes rested on the couch my mother had given me, contemplating it. Finally he turned back to me. "Uh… your mother told me to come over. She was worried."

"Why didn't _she_ come over then?"

I knew how it sounded, but I couldn't help it.

"Anna, she's-" He stopped and exhaled impatiently. "She's not feeling very well. We saw the news and the shock was too much for her. I told her I'd find you."

"I just got off the phone with her and she sounded all right." I said doubtfully.

"She is. She'll be fine."

"Good." I nodded somberly.

"Good." He echoed, shuffling a little. "Well, I'll get out of your way then."

He turned to leave and suddenly I felt angry. I had almost died last night- he must have known that! How could he appear to be so indifferent? Before I could stop myself I said, "How long are we going to do this?"

My father paused but didn't turn around. For some reason that made me even angrier.

"So that's it? Did I mess up so badly that you can't even stand to be around me?"

"Of course not!" he burst out, and his voice was filled with emotion. For the first time in weeks he turned around and looked at me properly.

"Then what?" I asked in a pleading whisper.

My father hung his head. "What do you want from me Anna?" he said wearily. "Huh? What can you possibly expect me to say after you just up and left us-"

"What else was I supposed to do, Dad? You were the one throwing around ultimatums!"

"I never kicked you out! _You_ left. You're the one who decided that that boy was more important than-" He stopped, and then looked at me as if something was suddenly made clear.

"What?" I snapped. But I knew. One look at his face, and I knew.

"Just how important is he?"

"For heaven's sake, Dad! I am not having this conversation with you."

"That _is_ why you left us, isn't it? So you could be with him?"

"Get out."

The words rushed out so suddenly that for a moment I couldn't believe that I was the one who'd actually said them. I was furious at him and didn't know why. For a second, I thought I was going to be sick.

My father didn't flinch. He looked at me steadily and stoically for long seconds, as guilt threatened to finish me off. Apparently, he'd gotten his answer.

He lowered his eyes. Without another word he walked out, closing the door behind him.

I bit my lip hard, trying to hold back the tears. But even though I began to taste blood, my efforts didn't help at all.

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"_Police are trying to apprehend the escaped convicts, but have so far been unsuccessful. While officials estimate the number of escapees to be around fifty, it is still unclear as to who exactly has escaped-" _

"_-as it is understood most of the bodies recovered from the bomb site have been burnt or crushed beyond recognition and it may take at least several weeks to identify-"_

"_- as a result, a city-wide curfew may be enforced. We have no idea how these people got out, or where they are hiding. But from our early reports of criminal attacks, it is clear that we-"_

"_- can assume their neutralizers have been rendered ineffective. They must be considered extremely dangerous and are not to be approached under any circumstances. During this we ask everyone remain calm-"_

"_-keep all doors and windows locked and-"_

"_-fight back."_

"What?" I murmured. "Hey, turn that up will you?"

We were at our Secret Headquarters, keeping an eye on the news from our Com Screen. Evie turned up the volume and we listened to Thomas Brenner's press conference.

"_What other choice do we have? These villains will stop at nothing to achieve their own ends- I've witnessed that first hand last night. The justice system has failed us repeatedly- and now the incarceration system has failed us. It's time for a reform. We must show them we will not hesitate to defend ourselves and what we hold dear._

_There are people who would tell you that you should be afraid. That you should shut yourself up in your houses and hide. I don't believe in that way of thinking. Go to work. Run your errands. Live your life as you've always had, and do not give into the fear that these poeple want so desperately for you to feel. Do _not_ let them win."_

"Listen to him. He's talking as if he's already mayor."

"At this rate, he very well might be," Evie said. "He's giving the public exactly what they want- a leader who's confident, empathetic with the people, positive and reassuring…" Evie shrugged. "I mean, where's our current mayor, Resham? Where's his press conference?"

"I'm sure he has his hands full. You know, trying to do damage control. Not garner votes from the public hysteria."

Evie stared at the Com Screen. "I think Brenner's doing both."

I thought about this as I went to suit up. Like Warren had predicted, we'd been put on standby by Jonathan Resham, Maxville's current mayor sometime around six 'o clock. I'd never paid much attention to him in the past but now I almost felt sorry for him. If my instinct was any indication, there was no way he'd be voted in for a second term. Brenner practically had the election in the bag.

I returned to the main room and sat at the computer console. Nearby, Evie was putting the final touches on her eye makeup and occasionally glancing at the police radio.

Together, we waited for the inevitable.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Where are they?" I whispered, looking up and down the street. It was usually teeming with late-night traffic, but now it was deserted. Despite Brenner's speech, most people had gone to their homes early.

We had received word of a superbeing-related disturbance in the uptown part of Maxville. We arrived on the scene not too long after that to find that police had barricaded a section of the main street. No one would go inside. Well, except for us.

So far there didn't seem to be anything untoward, except for the creepy silence. But we kept alert all the same.

"You think it's an ambush?" Scarlett whispered.

"I don't know. Just keep your eyes open." I paused. "Scarlett?"

Turning around, I saw her staring up at the sky. She swallowed thickly before asking, "Is the sky supposed to be doing that?"

I looked up. Heavy clouds began to come in at a much faster rate than was normal. They were a dark plum color, churning angrily as thunder and lightning assaulted the sky.

"It's a ruse," I told her, glancing upward. "Psychological warfare. Ignore it."

It was then I heard shrieks and whoops echoing up the street. I turned around. About a dozen people were coming towards us, as casually as if they were just taking an afternoon stroll. I recognized at least half of them; some of them had been locked away since before I was born.

"That's far enough," I said loudly when they were at least twenty feet away.

To my surprise, they stopped. One of them, a short middle aged woman, chuckled.

"I recognize that shield," she announced. "Tell me, did Maxville's favorite underdog have himself a little girl?" She smirked. "Or did you just steal it?"

I ignored her. "Are you going to give up quietly?" To Scarlett I whispered, "Get ready."

"Enough of this," a tall man snarled. "Kill them!"

He barely finished uttering the words before I threw a powerful beam of light straight into the group. It knocked a couple of them down, but the rest had quicker reflexes. It surprised me, considering most of them were approaching seniority.

Suddenly I heard a soft voice whisper in my ear, "A daughter it is, then."

I whirled around to see the same woman punch me in the gut. I doubled over in pain, but managed to throw a beam that hit… nothing.

I understood at once: she had the power of teleportation.

In the next moment there was pandemonium. Bright yellow explosions erupted overhead; an ear-splitting thrumming noise that I felt in very pit of my stomach threatened to make me throw up; blows seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere; my own light erupted into the fray.

For several terrifying moments we were fighting blindly. I couldn't tell if we were on our way to winning and apprehending the villains, or losing and getting murdered. I unhappily suspected it was the latter.

Then suddenly there were screams- high, piercing and agonizing.

Someone new had dropped in from above. Before I could move another muscle, everything stopped. The noise vanished. The lights went out- including my own- and I could see.

The escaped villains lay on the ground, wide-eyed and senseless. Evie, who had come to stand by my side, stared down at them in amazement, absently wiping her bloody nose.

"Well. That was easy."

I knew that voice. Oh no.

I looked up in dismay. There, standing smugly amidst the unconscious bodies was Chimera, aka Kylie Jordan.

"Hello, White Star," she said with an almost bored derision that made it clear she knew exactly who I was.

But my cold retort died on my lips. A masked flier dropped down beside her. His warm grin and bright brown eyes were unmistakable. It was Jonah.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Well. Isn't this nice and awkward?" Evie took another drink of her iced tea and smiled grimly at us.

Kylie simply rolled her eyes. She looked as if she'd rather be inside an active volcano than sitting here in a dingy restaurant in Capitol Case. It was one of the few places in the city that were still open, considering all the villains roaming about. Jonah, through Kylie's translation had insisted that we catch up on our doings since graduation. Kylie had immediately signed to him something to the effect of having already seen my disgusting mug only a few months earlier, if her expression was any indication.

But Jonah pretty much had the last word and so here we were, sitting around a rickety table and not meeting each other's eyes for more than a couple of seconds. I squirmed, remembering the time I'd attacked Kylie for something it turned out she didn't do. Add that to the fact that I was also responsible for her friend Nicole being put away, and it was almost guaranteed we were in for a night of unadulterated torture.

But Jonah seemed to have forgotten all about those things. Kylie wasn't as forgiving.

Still, I almost felt bad for her as she had the painstaking task of relaying everything Jonah signed to Evie and me. It must've been killing her having to engage in a civil conversation with me. But I tried to ignore her attitude, as I really was happy to see Jonah again. His hands danced exuberantly as he talked about what he'd been up to since Sky High, which was a lot. It hardly surprised me, as I'd often read about him and Kylie in the news. Their Hero careers had taken off almost from the moment they graduated- defending Germany from an infamous Super Villain known as Hazmat; rescuing dozens of people from several floods in Iowa; saving a prominent political figure in China from an assassination attempt.

Jonah didn't talk about any of these things though- he mostly described the sights he'd seen and the people in those places. But Kylie couldn't resist interjecting all of their successes.

"They're having a street in Paris named after us you know," she boasted. "They were so grateful after we helped them with-"

"Yeah, that's great," Evie interjected dismissively. "So Jonah, what was Europe like? I've always wanted to go there. Are the people nice? Have you been to Italy?"

Jonah nodded. Evie sighed happily.

I began to notice that Evie had hardly taken her eyes off of him since we'd arrived, hanging onto his every smile for dear life.

Her attention wasn't lost on Kylie either. She leaned forward, appearing to studying her.

"So how's sidekick life treating you Evelyn?" she asked with a false sincerity. "Because I have to say, I haven't heard much about you guys in the news or anything."

Evie gave her a suspicious glance. "We're doing just fine. In fact, I helped stop a purse snatcher on our first day."

"Wow," Kylie said in a sarcastically impressed voice. Ignoring Jonah's warning look, she continued, "A purse snatcher, huh? Anna must be so lucky to have you."

"I am," I told her sharply. "She's the best."

Jonah was radiating disapproval but Kylie simply shrugged and turned her attention back to us.

"Oh, I wouldn't go that far. I mean, she _is_ allergic to her own power. " Turning to Evie she added, "Weren't you voted 'Most Likely to Become a Civilian' in school?"

Evie went pale before an embarrassed flush spread across her cheeks. She stood up.

"It's very late. I- I have to go," she said quietly. Without looking up, she added, "Thanks for the stories, Jonah." Then she left.

I snapped out of the incredulous daze I was in and then glared at Kylie, seething. "You are such a jerk, you know that?" With that, I got up and went after Evie.

It was raining lightly when I got outside. I stopped her just as she was crossing the street. "Evie, wait a minute!"

She turned around, breathing hard. For a moment I thought she was crying.

But when she spoke, her voice was calm. "She wasn't lying, you know. They did vote me 'Most Likely to Become a Civilian'. It was in the yearbook and everything."

"Well you showed them, didn't you?" I said encouragingly. When that didn't work I tried, "Look, don't pay any attention to what Kylie says. She's just a mean sad person who makes herself feel better by insulting people." I sighed. "Trust me, I know."

"Does she?" Evie said half-heartedly.

"You're awesome, okay? Don't let anyone make you think otherwise."

Evie watched me searchingly for a second. Then she pulled me into one of her sudden forceful hugs.

"Um, Evie-" I choked.

"You're right," she said, gripping me even more tightly. "Kylie hasn't changed at all since high school. She's just like the rest of them."

She pulled away at last and I tried not to visibly gasp for breath.

"That's the spirit. Let's forget about her and head home."

She smiled thoughtfully. "In a second, okay? I forgot something."

She went back inside. On a sudden uneasy impulse, I followed her. Evie went over to where Kylie and Jonah were sitting, still engaged in tacit conversation. They both looked up as she approached.

"I forgot my drink," she said. Then she picked up her half-finished glass of iced tea… and threw it in Kylie's face.

"Oh!" she cried out in shock, then shot to her feet. "You are going to be _so_ sorry you did that!"

The few people that were in the restaurant turned to stare at us. Remembering what Kylie was capable of, I rushed forward to stop her by any means necessary. But Jonah immediately grabbed her. He looked into Kylie's fierce green eyes and shook his head pleadingly. I don't know exactly what passed between them, but Evie remained unharmed.

"I don't know why you keep insisting we do this!" Kylie shouted at him, then turned a wrathful eye upon Evie. "You better hope I never see you again!"

"_You_ better hope that drink doesn't stain!" Evie retorted.

With a furious scream, Kylie went for her again but Jonah held her back.

A waiter stormed up to us then. "Okay, I'm going to have to ask you guys to leave. Now."

I sighed. To Evie I said, "Okay, you've made your point. Let's get out of here."

Evie allowed me to guide her outside. As we left I could hear Kylie, still arguing with Jonah. I didn't bother to turn around: I could easily imagine the dejected look on his face.

On the bus, Evie was curiously quiet. She stared out of the window, her eyes darting back and forth as she followed the street lights that rushed past.

Finally she said, "I shouldn't have thrown that drink."

"Probably not."

"It was childish… and petty."

"I guess it was."

After a few seconds she admitted, "Felt good though."

I smiled, and Evie grinned. But her joy was short-lived. "I used to watch him play Save the Citizen after school sometimes. The other Heroes would give me dirty looks when I went there- you'd think they owned the place. But not him. He always smiled, made me feel like I belonged."

The bus pulled over at her stop. Before Evie got out, she turned to me. "She doesn't deserve him."

"I know."

She smiled faintly. "Goodnight Anna."

Evie left, and the bus moved on. I slumped wearily in my seat. The night had ended in a perfect disaster. Replaying the events in my mind I couldn't believe I'd agreed to spend any time with Kylie in the first place. I wondered when Jonah would stop deluding himself into thinking we could all be friends. He had a better chance of winning the lottery. On Mars.

I finally got home, beyond exhausted. I made a beeline for my bed, passing the phone on my way. A wave of remorse came over me as I remembered the fight I'd had with my father earlier. I wanted to call him and apologize. Disagreement or not, I had no right to treat him the way I had.

But it was almost midnight. My parents would certainly be asleep by now. I'll call him tomorrow, I promised myself.

I showered, put on some warm clothes and fell into bed with a groan. Outside, the rain pattered heavily against the window. Somewhere in the back of my mind was the awareness that the thunder was rumbling too loudly and too often. But like the hundreds of other thoughts whirling drowsily around in my head, I couldn't hold onto it for more than a moment.

The storm could wait. Tonight, the whole world could wait.


	10. Uncertain Terms

Sorry for the extensive delay! Really trying to keep the waiting time to a minimum. And many thanks for the reviews and comments, especially those special few who take the time to add those extra words about the story itself. ;)

Major points go out to **arnold the female purple pygmy puff** for her beta work! :)

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sky High, or any of its canon characters.**

**Chapter Ten- Uncertain Terms**

Though I slept soundly, my mind would not rest. My thoughts continued in the form of memories turned dreams: me at Thomas Brenner's campaign party moments before it all came crashing down; standing at the remains of Maxville's Correctional Facility; fending off unseen villains that came at me from all sides-

I woke up gasping. When I realized I was not moments from death but safe and sound in my bed, I fell back with a sigh. I squinted at the clear sunlight that came in through the window. The thick ominous clouds of last night's storm were gone. But it did little to improve my mood.

Ten minutes later I was having breakfast while listening to the morning news. Three escaped villains had ambushed a police station in the early hours of the morning. Several officers had been wounded, two of them fatally. Despite continuous reassurance from the authorities, that incident was enough to spark panic. People were locking themselves in their homes; businesses were closing early, or not opening at all.

And I suspected that was only the beginning.

I couldn't get the events of that terrible night out of my head: there were so many more questions than answers. But as I finished my oatmeal I came up with a few sketchy conclusions- and one person at the center of them.

After my morning shift at the grocery store, I went to Thomas Brenner's official campaign office. There were a lot of people there, making phone calls and filling envelopes. They all looked so busy that for a moment I hesitated, not knowing who to turn to.

"Can I help you?" asked a terrible raspy voice behind me.

I turned around. A man in a well tailored suit was looking at me expectantly. I recognized him at once. He was the man who had accompanied Mr. Brenner during his meet-and-greet at the gala, the one who'd stared rudely at my scars. But now that he spoke, I realized I'd heard that voice before. He was Marion Horton, Brenner's secretary.

"I need to speak to Mr. Brenner," I told him. "It's important."

"I'm sorry, but I'm afraid that's quite impossible. He's not in the building at the moment."

I folded my arms, annoyance threatening to get the better of me. "Look, not to be rude or anything but I don't have time for games. With everything that's been happening, there's no other place in the city that he would be right now. So will you please go and tell Mr. Brenner that Charles Arrian's daughter would like to see him?"

My words were firm, unwavering. Mr. Horton gazed at me for a while, completely devoid of expression. Then suddenly, he smiled.

"Please wait a moment."

He turned and walked into one of the offices at the back of the room, shutting the door behind him. I waited patiently, listening to the phones ringing and the low but steady hum of lowered voices.

Presently, Mr. Horton returned. "Mr. Brenner will see you now. Please step this way."

I followed him silently to the door at the other side of the room. He opened it and ushered me inside.

Thomas Brenner, who had been sitting rose up to meet me. "Hello Miss Arrian. Won't you have a seat?" When I complied, he asked, "So what can I do for you?"

"Well for starters, I'd like to know who wants you dead."

He blinked. "Excuse me?"

"Mr. Brenner, the Maxville Correctional Facility was destroyed the same the night your event was targeted. Several dozen villains escaped; you were almost killed. That can't be a coincidence."

Mr. Brenner looked thoughtful. "When you put it that way, I suppose it isn't. But if you're looking to me for answers as to who might be responsible, then I'm afraid I can't help you."

"You must have _some_ idea of who your enemies are-"

"Enemies?" Mr. Brenner asked in good natured surprise. "Miss Arrian, in my line of work there are people whose views and intentions almost always differ from my own. But I don't think that any of them would extend so far as to commit murder."

"Are you willing to bet more lives on that?"

The calm smile with which he'd regarded me up to this point vanished. "Like I said … I have no idea who could be behind all this. If I did, I would have spoken of it from the beginning."

I took in his too-tranquil demeanor and quiet tone, wondering what he wasn't telling me.

"You employed a lot of Heroes that night," I commented. "Why?"

"There were a lot of important people at that event, sadly some of whom were lost." He stood up then, staring idly at the many plaques and certificates on his wall. "They insisted on the best security detail money could buy." He turned back to face me with a small smile. "I spare no personal expense when it comes to my friends. Speaking of which, your own check is in the mail. Now, is there anything else I can do for you?"

His expression made it clear that as far as he was concerned, the conversation was now over. "No thanks," I told him. "I think you've said enough."

Faint displeasure flashed in his eyes, but only for a moment. "Then I'll have Marion escort you out."

"That's all right. I know the way."

I left his office. On the way outside I passed Mr. Horton, who had a strange smile as he watched me go.

I mused over that brief conversation as I made my way to my parents' house. There was no question that Thomas Brenner was hiding something. But whether or not it was relevant I couldn't tell. He was a politician after all- their entire careers revolved around keeping secrets. I'd gone to him hoping for some answers, but Brenner had insisted on telling me as little as he could. It came to me then that I knew practically nothing about the man other than a list of his accomplishments.

But those thoughts were soon put aside as I approached the house. I remembered the decision I'd made to apologize to my father and thought it best to do it face to face. I rang the doorbell a little nervously. Even though I still had my keys, it somehow felt wrong to just barge in there. After all, it technically wasn't my house anymore.

My father answered the door. When he saw me, he immediately turned around and went back inside. At least he left the door open.

"Diane, Anna's here," I heard him announce.

So it was going to be like that. I took a deep breath, looked up at the sky and went inside.

My mother was on the couch watching the news, like the rest of the city. Her eyes lit up when she saw me, but not with joy. I knew I was in for it.

"Anna Arrian," she said fiercely, sitting up to glare at me properly, "What on earth were you thinking?"

"I'm sorry," I tried to say, but my mother was beyond wrathful.

"Your father spent the entire night looking for you," she scolded, "and what do you do when he finally finds you? You tell him to _get out_? Is that how we raised you?"

"Mom, I-"

"Not a word, Anna!" she said sharply and I fell silent. "I am sick and tired of the fighting! You and your father have continued this nonsense long enough. I want you both to resolve this- right now."

Dad blinked at her indignantly. "Now hold on a minute, Diane. Don't you think I've tried?"

Mom shot him a look so deadly he had to glance away. When she spoke again, her voice was like steel.

"_Try harder_."

With that, she got up and walked out of the room. Moments later, the sound of crashing pots and pans could be heard from the kitchen: I suspected a vengeful lunch was being made.

I'd never heard my mother sound so angry. She was always the level-headed one, the one who never raised her voice unless it was absolutely necessary. It bother me no end to know I was the cause of all her fury.

I turned to look at my father, who gave me a sheepish glance out of the corners of his eyes.

Your mother's right," he offered after an eternity of silence.

"Yeah." I decided just to take a deep breath and go for it. "I'm sorry about yesterday. I was disrespectful."

He nodded. "Yes, you were. But I shouldn't have picked a fight. Or accused you of…" he trailed off, looking more uncomfortable than I'd ever seen him. "I guess I just panicked."

"Why?"

He closed his eyes, shaking his head slightly. "Seeing you beat up like that and on your own… it's not a state any parent wants to see their child in."

It surprised me to hear him say that. I was wrong; he did still love me after all. "Dad, I'm not always bloodied and alone. You just caught me at a bad time. Believe it or not, I'm doing all right."

For a moment all that could be heard was the sound of Mom's continued assault on the dishes.

"You do know it wasn't my intention to make you leave, don't you?" He hesitated. "If you wanted to come back…"

"That's not why I left," I insisted. "I know you didn't kick me out. I also know that you think somehow I chose Warren over you and Mom. I didn't. I did this for myself. I have to learn to make my own choices, even if you don't always agree with them."

He stared at me for a brief moment, as if he was suddenly uncertain of who I was. When he spoke again, his voice was quiet.

"I'm not going to pretend I'll ever approve of…of some of the choices you make," he said tactfully. "But I'll try my best to respect them."

"That's all I ever wanted," I told him honestly.

Dad risked a small smile, which I returned. I knew things would never quite be the same between my father and me. But I'd take whatever I could get.

Before I left Mom put a wrapped lasagna into my hands and told me that despite everything, we were still a family. Then she burst into tears.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Arthur Rennington, better known to the masses as Overlord, tried to blow up the Maxville Municipal Bank. My father always said he was completely off his hinges. He wasn't wrong. By the time Scarlett and I apprehended and handed him over to the authorities, he was hysterical. He raved about how this wasn't the end; that he would overthrow the capitalist government if it was the last thing he ever did, and that we would be the first to be executed for betraying everything that America stood for.

All he got for his trouble was a dirty look and a series of inhaler-puffs.

When we'd returned to Headquarters I looked at Evie, ready to voice my concern over our latest fight. But before I could open my mouth, she said, "Anna, I'm fine. So let's not get into it."

"You practically turned blue out there," I argued. "You really might try toning it down."

She gave me an irritable look. "I only use my powers when I have to. That maniac was about to go nuclear on our ass."

"Evie-"

"I can handle it, okay? Look, I gotta go. Stupid villain made me late for work," she muttered, grabbing her coat and heading out of the door.

I stared after her, frustrated and a little sore from the earlier battle. I didn't understand why she had to insist on powering up at such a risk to her health. Every time I tried to talk about it with her she'd abruptly change the subject or find some excuse to leave. I felt a little helpless.

Making a mental note to sit her down about it later, I filled out the remaining report on our altercation with Overlord and listened out for any major developments on the MCF breakout and the attack on Brenner's campaign event. Two days had passed since that happened, and no one had produced any answers thus far.

I remembered my conversation with Mr. Brenner and his resolve not to tell me anything of importance. He was still going strong in the initial polls as well as the media, appealing to the city with strong words, comforting promises of hope and victory, and his own brand of personal righteous indignation.

I knew it was only a matter of time.

It was coming onto six when I locked up for the evening and I wondered yet again what Warren was up to. I hadn't seen or heard from him since the morning after the incident, despite his promise to keep in touch. I'd tried to call him, but it immediately went to voicemail. After the third try, I gave up and did a little mental deduction based on the time and what day it was. Then I counted out some change, hopped on the bus and went to find him.

My initial presumptions proved correct: I arrived at the Paper Lantern just in time to see Warren emerge from the restaurant. He was walking towards his car which was parked at the corner. I called out to him and he slowed down so that I could catch up.

"What happened?" I asked. "I've been trying to get a hold of you forever."

"Sorry," he muttered, fumbling with his car keys. "It's been hectic." He paused. "Want me to drive you home?"

"No, I want you to talk to me." Nevertheless I walked around the car and got inside. Warren was already there, turning the ignition. After letting the car warm up for a few minutes he pulled out into the street.

"Did you find him?" I asked quietly. It was the only obvious explanation for his disappearance over the last two days.

"Not a trace," he said tonelessly. "No hospital's admitted him; he's not in any morgue, not yet anyway. And the police can't find him." He smiled resentfully. "I think they're too scared to look properly."

His last comment was kind of unsettling, but I rallied myself. "So… there's a good chance he's still alive."

Warren glanced at me. I couldn't make out his expression properly in the shadows of the car, but I suspected it wasn't one of reassurance. We turned a corner and an overhead light caught his face.

I frowned. "When was the last time you slept?"

"I don't know," he muttered tersely. "A few days ago, maybe."

"Are you serious?" I said, ignoring his exasperated expression. "Warren, you're no use to anyone if you're dead on your feet-"

"Would you please not do this right now?" he said, and there was a harsh edge to his voice. "I _can't_-" He cut himself off, glaring straight ahead.

I watched him carefully, a headily agitated version of the person I knew. It was then I noticed the scorch marks on the steering wheel. Considerably subdued by the image, I murmured "Right. Sorry," and turned to gaze noncommittally out of the window.

A few seconds went by before I heard a remorseful voice say, "Anna…"

"'S all right."

"No it's not, it's…" He rubbed his eyes. "I can't sleep. Not right now." Warren looked on the verge of saying something else. But he seemed to change his mind at the last minute, staring bitterly at the world beyond the dashboard with tired eyes. Long minutes passed in which the silence threatened to suck the very air out of our shared space.

"Are you on standby?" he asked after a while.

"Not tonight."

"I'll take you home."

"Then what?" I asked, half expecting another clipped response. But he just shrugged.

"Then the library, I guess. Have a biology paper that's due tomorrow." He saw my expression and added, "The city might be going to hell, but deadlines are deadlines."

He was trying to lighten the mood, and I gave him a small appreciative smile. "If it matters, I do know a thing or two about biology. And I won't throw you out after eight."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It turned out I knew less about biology than I realized, but thankfully the internet helped me mask those shortcomings. In between the research I made coffee and subtly corrected Warren's typographical errors when he wasn't looking.

So the time passed. Warren kept singularly to the task at hand, working with a near manic dedication that was not lost on me. It became plain that the definitions, the cycle charts, and everything else were little more than a much-needed distraction to him. This was how Warren dealt with things he simply couldn't handle anymore: shoving his unspoken fears behind work, his job and a wall of indeterminable silence.

But I wasn't too worried. He'd talk about it when he was ready.

Two and a half hours later, we were done. Warren closed his textbooks as I gathered up the charts we'd made. Stretching, I switched on the television and we settled in front of the couch to see what the damage was.

Four more villains had been apprehended. Warren leaned forward anxiously, and I prayed that one of them would be Barron Battle. Our hopes were soon dissolved. They were only lesser-known villains, who didn't put up much resistance when they were found.

The weather report was coming to a close when Warren finally spoke up. "My mother's gone to Moscow."

I gave him a surprised look. "What?"

"Just up and left this morning. Wouldn't tell me why." He scowled slightly as if remembering his earlier frustration.

"Do you know when she'll be back?"

"She wouldn't say," he muttered, running a hand over his face. Fatigue was getting the better of him. "I can't believe after everything that's happened she's still trying to shut me out."

I glanced back at the television, not knowing how to respond to that. A list of the escaped villains that were presumed alive and still at large appeared on the screen. Barron Battle's name and picture came up, and Warren visibly tensed.

His conflict was plain- the fear for his father's safety, yet the hope that the world was indeed beyond his reach. I wanted to say something that would make things better, something comforting and positive.

But I couldn't tell him that it was going to be all right, or that everything would work out for the best. The truth was, there was no way to know what was going to happen. We were freefalling, hurtling towards a crisis that had no definitive name.

Without a second thought, I slipped my hand into his and held on. Warren looked at me searchingly, all traces of distraction gone. Then he let out a breath, relaxing for the first time all evening.

His fingers curled over mine. Silently, we watched the news.

x

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x

x

x

x

x

x

I switched off the TV, stifling a yawn and turned to see that Warren had fallen asleep. Reluctantly, I touched his shoulder.

"Hey."

He awoke with a start, sleepy-eyed and skittish. "What's happened?"

"Shh, nothing. Come on, let's get you settled."

"I can't," he mumbled, as I helped him onto the couch. "They might find him-"

"And if they do, I'll wake you. Go to sleep."

Warren shook his head stubbornly, but his body was already relenting; he fell heavily onto the over-stuffed cushions and was out again within seconds.

I pulled a blanket from one of the boxes underneath the table and covered him up before switching off the light.

By then, it was well past midnight. I went to my room, worn out and on the way to oblivion myself.

"Well," said a voice out of the darkness, "talk about a fascinating turn of events."


	11. Who is Barron Battle?

*winces* Such a late update, much apologies! Real life completely took over my... well, life! Anyways, thanks to everyone that reviewed and I hope you enjoy this chapter. Much appreciation goes out to **arnold the female purple pygmy puff** for her beta work. :)

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sky High, or any of its canon characters.**

**Chapter Eleven- Who is Barron Battle?**

"Nice place," Paul said as he flipped through a junk magazine. "Kinda small though," he added.

"What're you- how did you know where I was?"

"Followed you here the other day," he mumbled with a shrug. He tossed the magazine onto the bed and grinned. "So what's it like being on your own?"

I took a step back out of habit, though I didn't get far in the small room. "It's nice. You know, it's… good."

"Have to admit, I never thought you'd do it. But you could be really stubborn when you wanted to be."

I kept my eyes carefully on my cousin as he walked past me. The uneasiness already started to settle in my bones and I longed for escape, but I ignored these feelings as best I could.

"So what's _he_ doing here?" he asked, opening the door and peering into the next room where Warren lay sleeping.

"That's really none of your business," I said in a hushed voice. "Please, close the door."

Paul obliged after a moment, turning to back to me with a critical look. "No wonder Uncle Charles freaked. Dating the son of his biggest enemy? That's pretty messed up, Anna."

"You have no idea what you're talking about," I hissed as quietly as my frustration would allow.

"Oh, so you weren't holding hands with him?"

My face flooded with heat and I crossed my arms defensively. "You're spying on me now? Exactly how long were you here?"

"Pretty much all evening. I was going to surprise you, but then I saw _him_ and thought I'd lay low." He smiled briefly. "I brought some of my pictures. I made a couple of new ones I think you'd like."

I looked at the dark brown folder that lay at the foot of my bed, blinking rapidly against an oncoming migraine. "Sure Paul, I'll take a look at them. But it's late now and I'm starting to feel a little-" I made a vague hand gesture, "-so if you came for something specific-"

"I did actually," he said, graciously stepping back so he was against the wall. "Don't know if you heard, but the villains are out."

"Yeah, I kind of noticed that."

"Like I said- a fascinating turn of events," he said, watching me carefully. "Kind of makes you think, doesn't it? Maybe Lisa wasn't that crazy after all. Maybe I should've just let her-"

"Let her what? Kill me?" I interjected sarcastically.

"I was going to say 'destroy the MCF and everyone inside'," Paul answered calmly. "Sure, there would have been a few casualties, but it seems kind of small compared to the body count that's already starting."

I glared at him incredulously. "The end doesn't justify the means, Paul. You're talking like… like one of _them_."

"Am I? Innocent people still died- inside that facility and out. Think about it. Some of them would still be alive right now if Lisa had finished what she'd started."

I heard small noises in the next room. My heart racing, I opened the door just the slightest fraction and peeked outside. Warren was shifting restlessly in his sleep for a few moments before becoming still once again.

I closed the door silently. The quiet aching in my limbs now flared into severe pain. Not turning around, I whispered, "If I'd known then what I know now, I'd have still tried to stop her. Because that would have been the _right_ thing to do. Would you have done the same?"

"No," he said softly, surprising me. "You might believe you're being noble Anna, wanting to save them. In the end, I did too. But now they're out. And Barron Battle might be one of them. You think about what that means- for everyone."

I turned around sharply, ready to argue out the matter. But Paul had already gone.

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

In the morning, so had Warren.

All that remained of his visit was a blanket neatly folded on the couch. I picked it up and put it back into the box under the table, trying not to notice how the place felt strangely smaller without him.

After a moment, I took the blanket out of the box and returned it to the couch.

I was thinking it was rather chilly in here as I put on a pot of water for some oatmeal. Suddenly a loud scream rang out, coming from the floor below. I immediately dashed outside, raced down the stairs and right up to Daisy Tate's apartment, where her cries could still be heard. I was about to attempt to kick the door down but stopped myself at the last minute.

Tentatively, I knocked. "Uh- Daisy? Are you okay?"

There was no answer, only sobbing noises. I turned the doorknob and was surprised to find that it was unlocked.

I'd never been in Daisy's apartment before. It was done all in bright yellow, and the smell of burning incense hung thickly in the air. Some of the posters on the wall depicted Janis Joplin, Jimmy Hendrix, and Pink Floyd; others made my eyes hurt if I stared at them for too long.

I found my landlady kneeling by the window. Her long blonde hair hung over her face, her shoulders shaking. She was clutching several flower pots which hosted pitifully drooping flowers.

"My tiger lilies!" she wailed. "It was still so warm, I never thought… oh, they were special hybrids! I spent forever cultivating them!"

I stared at her, bewildered for a few seconds before I finally saw the culprit of her misery. Through a small parting in the curtains there were subtle but insistent movements. I leaned forward and pushed it back. I gaped.

The world outside was nearly buried in snow- and it was still coming down. I watched it for several seconds, wondering how it was possible. Winter wasn't due for several more weeks at least and even if it was, there was far too much: there hadn't been a cloud in the sky since late last night.

There was no question about it. Someone was behind this.

"I'm sorry…about your flowers," I mumbled awkwardly. "Are you going to be all right?"

She nodded, sniffling.

"Um, well…I'll just go."

Daisy gave no indication of having heard me, still gazing forlornly at her dead plants. I left, closing the door behind me.

……………………………..

Maxville was all but shut down. The snowstorm threw out power and telephone lines throughout the city. Several snowplows were already encountering difficulties on the streets. Three homeless people were found frozen to death.

But it didn't stop there. Around midday the temperature suddenly shot up to a record high, melting the snow and flooding major areas. Rain fell soon after, worsening an already bad situation.

Then came the tornadoes.

They ripped through the outer parts of the city, tearing down trees and leveling lesser structures. Eight people were killed directly- four more later succumbed to related injuries.

The culprit turned out to be one of the MCF escapees, a Super Villain by the name of Climate. He was ultimately apprehended some twenty or thirty feet above the north-west part of the city where he hovered in a controlled whirlwind.

I saw him as the authorities led him away- a small wizened man who looked old enough to be my great-grandfather. He had a strange satisfied smile on his face- like someone having finished a job well done.

………………………………..

Evan was sitting at the kitchen table which was covered with test tubes and beakers of all kinds. Most of them were filled with a strange dark liquid.

"Hey Evan," I said.

"Don't worry, none of this stuff's dangerous," he said absently by way of greeting. "Have a seat."

Hesitantly, I complied. Evie took a seat as well and together we watched Evan silently as he stared at the contents of the table with a blank contemplation.

Evan had called Evie, saying he had something to tell us regarding the collapse of the Crystal Hall at Brenner's event. That evening we headed to her house as quickly as the weather conditions allowed. Things were slowly returning back to normal, but there still clean-up crews trying to undo the damage that Climate had caused.

Now here we were, waiting for Warren to arrive. After about half an hour of relative silence, we heard the doorbell. Evie got up to get it. I heard Warren's voice in the hallway and moments later he appeared. He looked as cold as I felt but still a better sight than he was the previous night. He met my eyes, and we murmured a casual greeting as he took a seat beside me.

"Thanks for coming guys," Evan said, straightening up. "As you know, I've been looking into what caused the Crystal Hall building collapse."

"So what'd you find?" Warren asked.

"Well first off, my initial assessment was correct- it wasn't a bomb. No traces of explosive residue were found inside or outside the building, and there was no evident sabotage to the foundation."

"Then what brought it down?" I asked.

"Technically…nothing," Evan said simply.

Warren leaned forward, eyebrows raised. "Come again?"

"I've been analyzing samples of different materials from the building- concrete, steel, glass. And I haven't found anything suspicious at all. The place just… fell apart."

There was a silence as we all took that in.

"That can't be right," Warren said after a while. "Buildings just don't come down on their own, Evan. Not at that rate."

"I agree," Evan said. "Which leaves just one other option: one of us did it."

"And by 'one of us' you mean-"

"A super-being," Even confirmed. "Someone who has the ability to disintegrate matter or break things apart on a molecular level could have easily done that kind of damage. Do we know anyone who can do that?"

"I don't," I said.

"Me neither," Evie added.

Warren shook his head.

Evan sighed. "Then I guess it's time to do some more digging. I'll call you guys if I find out anything new."

It was then that Warren's phone rang. He excused himself and went into the hallway. A couple of minutes later he returned, looking pale.

"I have to go…uh, something's come up. I'll catch you guys later."

He turned and left. Something was going on, that much was plain. After exchanging a look with Evie and Evan, I got up and went after him.

"What's wrong?" I asked, as he was putting his jacket on. "What's happened?"

"Nothing," he said distractedly. "Look, I'll call you later, all right?"

"This has something to do with your dad, doesn't it?"

Warren paused as he was opening the door. He wouldn't meet my eyes.

"I got a tip from someone who says he's seen him. I'm going to ask him some questions."

"Who is this person? Why didn't they go to the police with the information?"

When he didn't answer, an unpleasant prospect immediately came to mind. "Oh my g- it's a _villain_,isn't it?" Are you out of your _mind_?"

"I don't have a choice, Anna. You can understand why they don't want the police involved. If they even suspect I went to them, it's over."

"Then at least let me go with you. You shouldn't walk into something like that on your own-"

"Absolutely not," he said in a frustrated whisper. "Anna, you promised me you wouldn't get involved."

"But this is crazy," I argued. "It could be a trap; you have no idea what you're walking into. Why do you feel compelled to take on the whole world by yourself?"

"That's not what this is about!"

"Then enlighten me!"

Warren fell silent, glaring at the walls, the Domagas family pictures on the nearby table; everywhere but at me.

I folded my arms, trying to control my breathing. "Look, you're hung up on what your dad's done- I get that. But you need to talk to me. People are dying-"

"And I don't want you to be one of them," he said heatedly. "You don't know my father or what he's capable of and I'm _not_ going to risk you!"

I gazed at him in stunned silence; a slight flush came over his face. He glanced over my shoulder to where I knew the twins must have been staring.

"You, or anyone else," he amended. Then he turned around and headed out the door.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

I could have called the police. It seemed the obvious and most logical decision. But something warned me against it- intuition perhaps, or just the reluctance to betray Warren's trust. Whatever the reason, I was livid with him for putting me in this position, mainly because being angry was easier than being scared. I didn't want to think about what he was getting into.

I left the Domagas residence when it started to grow dark and went to my parents' house, filled with a sudden need to see them. Mom was in bed, already asleep when I went to check on her. She looked so worn out that I asked Dad about her.

"Your mother's fine," Dad said somewhat carefully as he dusted off the books on his shelf. "It's been kind of a rough time for her."

The last time I'd seen my mother like that was in the days following Paul's death. With everything that had happened recently I supposed the stress of it was finally taking its toll.

I watched my father as he shuffled around his study. Things had more or less settled between us. The days of light conversation were over- any attempts at it became strained and died quickly. But there was no longer any tension or coldness. That was what mattered.

"I've been keeping up with the news," he commented after a while. "They found three more villains today."

"Well that's good."

"It is," he conceded. "But there are still dozens more out there." He glanced at me. "Have you heard anything about… any of them?"

It didn't take a genius to know that 'any of them' really meant 'Barron Battle'. I shook my head, wondering yet again where Warren was. A new surge of anger over his recklessness came over me and I resolved to give him hell the next time I saw him.

Dad shrugged. "I can't say I'm surprised. Quite a few of them could disappear if they really put their minds to it."

He began to polish his desk, wincing as he bent down to reach the lower area. My father's pain drove home the enormity of Barron Battle's devastating impact on everyone around me. For the first time, I was suddenly aware of how little I knew of the man who had taken so much.

"Tell me about Barron Battle."

My father paused in his cleaning. I couldn't see his face but his head was lowered, and his shoulders sagged. When he turned to me, there was an emptiness in his expression that almost made me regret what I'd said.

"I wondered if we'd ever have this conversation," he said. "Most kids ask a million questions when they see something wrong. But all you wanted to know was if I was going to be okay and that was the end of it. I guess it was too good to last."

He pulled the seat from behind his desk and sat closer to me. His eyes were unfocused, already half-lost to bitter memory.

"Dad?" I prompted softly after a minute or so had passed and he was no closer to speaking.

He gave me a small apologetic smile which vanished almost as soon as it appeared. He exhaled at length.

"Barron Battle… was about as bad as they came. He wasn't the kind of kid that would pull the wings off of insects or mutilate small animals, but he was an evil bastard nonetheless.

"When he came into Samantha's life, I thought that was about the worst thing that could happen. I was wrong of course- the worst came years later. Oh, he gloated about it- like Sam was some kind of prize that he'd taken away from me. I guess in a way, he had. She was my best friend."

His unhappy gaze fell towards the floor. I didn't know how to react. Anger, disappointment- these were emotions I could handle from my father. But seeing him so heartbroken was something new and disturbing. I shifted uneasily in my seat and waited for him to continue.

"Coming on towards our senior year, Barron started getting these ideas. How no one was looking out for the 'Hero interest'. He said that we were being exploited for our genetic coding by the world governments and wanted an agency dedicated to Hero rights."

"Was any of that true?"

"It was _all_ true," Dad said surprisingly. "And a Hero rights agency wasn't a bad idea. But Barron had a way of turning even the best intentions into a nightmare.

"His ambition drove him to demand the impossible. He wanted an immediate ban on all super-genetic testing. We weren't freaks of nature, he said. We were just as normal as everyone else, just a different species all our own."

"But we're not," I said. "There's an anomaly in our genetic coding, an evolutionary mutation. That's Mad Science 101."

"You know that, and I know that. But Barron didn't agree. He believed the term 'super-being' should be defined as a separate species, one to be respected and in a way, revered. When the people in charge refused him, he got angry. That's when things got ugly.

"He rallied others who shared his beliefs, even got Sam in there at one point. I don't think she was really buying what he was selling. But love's like that, I guess- makes you oblivious to what's right in front of you."

He sighed. "Well like I said, she supported him for a while. But when the killings started, she finally opened her eyes and got out. Barron didn't like that at all, which made things worse for everyone. He all but waged outright war on the city." He glanced at me. "You must have been about five or six back then. Thankfully I was able to shield you from most of it."

I thought of Warren, who must have been around the same age I was during all of this. I wondered if he'd asked questions of his own. What could his mother have possibly told him?

"Many people tried to stop him, myself included. But Barron was powerful- and I don't mean just physically. He was a lot smarter than he made himself out to be and relied on people underestimating him. Just like I did."

I stopped breathing for some seconds, knowing what was coming next. Dad was gazing right through me, no longer in the present. When he spoke his voice was heavy, with an undertone of anxiety as if he was reliving it all right then and there.

"He grabbed a young woman out of the crowd. Dragged her to a condemned building. I cornered him and told him to let her go. He said he'd kill her if I didn't turn around and walk away right then. But I couldn't do that. I couldn't risk a shot either- she was too close.

"I begged him- _begged_ him to let her go. But he didn't listen. Instead he started asking her all these questions about herself. Shelley Brookfield. Twenty-five years old. Recent college graduate. Mother, father, two younger brothers. A fiancé.

"And he had this look on his face, this- joy," he said quietly. "Told me one more time to walk away, that he'd let her go if I did." He closed his eyes briefly. "I should've just walked away."

"He- he killed her?"

Dad fell silent. I couldn't bring myself to speak. But he forced himself to continue, in a voice weighted with guilt.

"There was no time to stop him. The flames shot up for just a few seconds. Doctors said her spine was fused into place. Irreparable nerve damage. Third-degree burns over sixty percent of her body. You know what the bastard did? He _laughed_. Laughed while she lay there, trying to scream with what was left of her vocal chords.

"I lost it- just went for him without even thinking. But that was what he was counting on. He took me down pretty easily. He hurled me through a window with nothing but fifty feet of air and a pile of construction debris to break my fall." He shook his head. "But I was lucky in the end."

"Dad, you didn't kill her. _He_ did. You can't forget that."

"Yeah, he did. And I let him. I wasn't always able to save the day. Some fights I won, and some I lost and I learned to live with that. But Shelley Brookfield was different. Barron saw to that. He made me get to know her- who she was, her place in the world, who was going to miss her when she died."

Suddenly he looked up at me, as if a new thought came to him. "Barron Battle may not have survived that explosion and heaven knows I hope he hasn't. But if he has…if you ever, god forbid, cross paths with that man, then you run. You hear me? Don't hesitate, don't look back. You just run- as fast as you can."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

_Eight Dead in Courthouse Blaze…._

…_Notorious Super-Villain Kills Local Politician…_

_Diplomat's Family Still Missing…._

So the headlines continued. The archived news articles depicted pictures of crime scenes, tearful survivors and in one or two instances, Barron Battle himself- composed and more than a little smug. Finally when I couldn't stomach any more, I turned off my computer.

But the graphicness of what I'd read, fueled by my own rampant imagination, wouldn't vanish even behind closed eyes. And I was struck with an unpleasant empathy for my father.

For the longest time I couldn't understand why he seemed to hate Warren so much. It didn't occur to me that my friend having the face of a sociopathic mass murderer who'd nearly killed him could have something to do with it.

Dad didn't hate Warren. He hated the reminder.

I checked my phone for what must have been the hundredth time. Warren said he'd call. The uneasy feeling I'd harbored since I'd last seen him grew into something I could no longer ignore. I switched on the TV, not knowing what I was looking for but dreading it all the same….

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I woke up. It was dark but the television was still on. I blinked once or twice before realizing I wasn't alone.

"Warren?" I mumbled, sitting up straighter.

Warren was sitting beside me, not moving. His head was bowed and his hands were clasped on his lap. It took me a moment to realize he was shaking.

"Warren, what's wrong?" I asked in alarm.

He opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out. He looked straight ahead with glassy eyes and I followed his gaze. On the television, a breaking news report was underway:

_- and if you are just joining us: three villains were found crushed to death earlier tonight in the ruins of a condemned building here in uptown Maxville. Though police have not made any positive identification, it is believed that one of the bodies is none other than notorious Super-Villain Barron Battle. We'll keep you updated as more details continue to come in."_


	12. Lose Control

Thanks guys for your patience and your awesome reviews! I never mean to take this long with my updates and hopefully the next chapter will be up sooner rather than later.

Major props go to **arnold the female purple pygmy puff** for her beta work!

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sky High, or any of its canon characters.**

**Chapter Twelve- Lose Control**

_"Ladies and gentlemen, I am beyond honored to be speaking to you as mayor of this great city. Without your support I would never have realized my dream of making a difference in the place that I love most- my home._

_"Together, we've made an important first step. But this is only the beginning. Starting this very day I plan to set in motion changes that will transform Maxville into a place where anyone can build a safe and successful life for themselves. We should not have to live in fear of economic hardships, an uncertain future, or archaic laws that do not sufficiently protect us._

_"My friends, I tell you that these fearful times will soon be a thing of the past. Many critics will say that as mayor, I will not have the power to change much. But with your help, I intend to prove them wrong. We can win this war against the social ills that plague our city. For make no mistake- it is a war we are in, one that we've been fighting unsuccessfully for a long time. But no longer. We _will_ be victorious._

_"A change is coming to Maxville. A change for a better tomorrow."_

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Almost a month had passed and Warren still wouldn't talk about it.

He had come over sometime after midnight, using the spare key I kept over the door to let himself in. No matter how hard I tried to get him to tell me what had happened, it was no use- he'd become virtually catatonic. I gave up eventually, realizing I was only making things worse.

Throughout the night the word had spread; news headlines throughout the city picked up the morbid refrain, and by dawn every media source confirmed it.

Barron Battle was dead.

Over the next few days people celebrated. Impromptu street parties cropped up all over the place. The media had a field day interviewing the super villain's past victims; images of tearfully relieved faces were plastered on nearly every newspaper. The whole thing disgusted me.

Samantha Peace returned from Moscow the day after it happened. Within two days a funeral was held (Warren would not permit the twins and me to attend) and the press redoubled their tasteless efforts. But if they were looking to capture the grief of the loved ones left behind, they were sorely disappointed- the ceremony was swift, the burial held at an undisclosed location.

Before the week had ended, it was all over. A hated villain was gone, the world was a better place and Warren, to all outward appearances, was back to normal.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Want a cookie?" Evie offered as she pulled out a paper bag. "I made them myself."

I peered into the bag. I wasn't particularly fond of oatmeal raisin, but I took one anyway. Evan snagged a couple of them as well, completely devouring the first one before he could finish saying 'thank you'. Warren refused with somber politeness.

It was the twins' movie night yet again. With our busy and conflicting schedules it was a miracle we were able to manage it, but here we all were in the Domagas' living room. I think we all needed an opportunity to take our minds off recent events.

Tonight was all about science fiction B-movies and we kicked it off with Evil Brain From Outer Space. I thought it was a horrifically bad film, but Evie and Evan seemed really into it, quoting dialogue word for word.

After it was over we had a five minute intermission, presumably to recover from the travesty that we'd just witnessed. Evan nudged Evie sharply, giving her a look. She nodded and got up with the empty chip bowl, clearing her throat.

"Anna, could you help me in the kitchen?"

"Sure."

I got up and followed her. Once we were behind closed doors she turned to me, her expression grave.

"Evan wanted me to talk to you about Warren."

"Okay... what about him?"

"Haven't you noticed the way he's been acting?"

It was hard not to. Warren had been distant since the funeral. He rarely visited me and never stayed for more than a few minutes when he did. But I remembered how I'd felt when Paul had died: the overwhelming desire to shut out the world in an effort to try and forget the pain, at least for a little while. I couldn't fault Warren for feeling the same way now.

"Of course I've noticed. But can you blame him?"

"I know, but-" Evie bit her lip, looking guilty. "Look, Evan told me there was this robbery last week in Capitol Case. Long story short-" Evie lowered her voice, "When they caught up with the thief, Warren just lost it. Started beating the crap out of the guy. Evan had to drag him off before the police got there."

I stared at her in silence. Warren never mentioned that. Then again, he didn't mention much of anything lately.

"Evan's tried to talk to him, but that hasn't gone over so well. So he asked me to get you to do it."

"Me? No, that's not a good idea. Evan's his Hero Support. If there are issues regarding the job, it's up to them to sort it out."

"Come on Anna. This isn't just about the job anymore." Evie grabbed a bag of chips and poured it into the empty bowl, frowning. "Warren's not exactly the sharing and caring type, and my brother couldn't talk his way out of a wet paper bag. But you're different. I mean you and Warren, you guys are..." she trailed off, making weird hand gestures.

I narrowed my eyes suspiciously. "We're what, exactly?"

Evie sighed in frustration. "Never mind. Just talk to him okay? Please?"

I groaned inwardly, but nodded.

We didn't stay late. Warren had an early class in the morning, and I went with him to catch a ride back home. We remained quiet for a while as the mellow tones of Maxville's easy-listening radio heightened the general discomfort.

"Those two really know how to pick bad movies," I commented in an effort to get the ball rolling.

"I guess," he murmured vaguely.

I ventured a glance at him. His eyes were fixed on the road as always, but there was something resolute in his gaze. I'd noticed it before- the day after the funeral. The first thing he'd told me was that he was okay. There was that same something in his eyes, something desperate and defiant that dared me to say otherwise.

Of course, I didn't say anything then. But now I had to.

"So how's the investigation going?"

"What investigation?"

I hesitated for a split second before plunging right into it. "The collapsed building... where your dad was found."

There was no answer. A nineties ballad began to play; I suddenly wanted to take a crowbar to the radio.

"I've been reading the papers," I continued on stubbornly. "No one can figure out why the building came down. But they've made the connection between that place and the Crystal Hall."

"I think we all have," was all he said, before lapsing into silence.

I switched off the radio, unable to take it anymore. "Warren, you're going to have to talk about this sometime."

"What's to talk about?" he asked tiredly, which wasn't what I was expecting. "Look, I don't know about the investigation and I don't care. The guy's dead- what the hell does it matter now?"

That threw me off. "You don't mean that."

"I really think I do."

I didn't know how to respond at first. It was a lie, this facade of indifference. That much was obvious.

"So this is you, being all right? Talking about your dad as if he was some nameless stranger? You seriously expect me to buy this?"

"I don't expect you to do anything," he said in irritation. "Why are we even having this conversation?"

"Because-" _I'm worried about you._ But the words never made it past my lips. I took the coward's way out.

"I know about Capitol Case," I said quietly.

We'd reached my apartment. Warren had pulled over, resting his head against the steering wheel.

"I'm gonna kill Evan," he groaned.

"Don't blame this on him," I told him firmly. "Listen, I don't care if you don't want to talk about it. That's fine. But you have to face this. It's starting to mess with your work-"

"The guy pulled a gun on me, what else was I supposed to do?"

"You disarm him, not beat him into a coma!"

Warren scoffed. "Don't exaggerate, the guy's out of ICU."

"For goodness' sa- it's not just about that. You need to stop pretending this hasn't affected you." I tried to soften my voice. "Warren, he was your father."

He turned to me sharply. "No, Anna. He was a good-for-nothing bastard who destroyed everything around him. His marriage, the city, people's lives- none of it mattered to him. He was supposed to be looking out for his family, but all he did was screw things up! God, you barely spent five minutes with the guy before he had you fighting for your life! And now you want me to feel sorry that he died?"

The words shot out of him, scathing and harsh. It was the most I'd heard him say in weeks.

A couple of moments passed. I opened the door and got out of the car. It was late and the streets were empty. It felt like we were the only two people left in the city. I leaned down and looked at him through the window.

"Maybe you forgot, but I lost someone too. I kept telling myself that I was all right. You made me see that I wasn't." I sighed hopelessly, hanging my head. "Let me know when you're ready to come back to us."

Warren wouldn't look at me. Without a word, he turned the ignition. I stepped onto the sidewalk and watched as he disappeared around the next corner with a soft screech of tires.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Stop right there!"

I struggled to pick up my pace. Scarlett was close behind. Ahead, a MCF escapee ran into a multi-level parking garage building. I swore softly and together, we went in after him.

Deep orange lights hung overhead inside. But for all the illumination the villain managed to keep to the shadows. We kept up though and followed him to the second, third, fourth level.

Then we lost him.

I looked around frantically. "There's nowhere else to go! You might as well come out."

Scarlett took a few steps forward, listening intently. She silently pointed to the south-end of the garage where a lone truck stood. I nodded. We crept quietly towards the vehicle, trying not to make a sound.

We weren't quiet enough.

A powerful jet of water knocked us off our feet, propelling us violently along the ground until we slammed into a minivan about fifteen feet away. I got up immediately, just in time to see the guy make a dash for it.

I hurled a beam of light at him. It was a wild shot, but a lucky one; he tripped up and fell heavily. We immediately ran towards him as he scrambled to his feet.

I launched another light beam when I saw an orb of water beginning to form before him. The beam pierced the orb, sending water spraying in all directions and struck him in the chest. He crashed into the wall, but managed to remain standing.

"Power down. _Now_," I ordered as he made a halfhearted attempt to attack again.

To my surprise, he obeyed. The man stared at us with curiously sad smile. He was tall, with thinning dark hair and large gray eyes.

"Are you going to come quietly?" I asked as a matter of formality.

"I give up," he told us. "But I'm not going with you." He took a couple of steps sideways, near the edge of the railing.

"Hey, watch it," Scarlett warned nervously.

"I'm not going with you," he repeated. "I'd rather die than face what's waiting for me."

"I'm sorry, but you don't really have much of a choice."

He smiled bitterly. "You have no idea what's coming, do you?"

I watched him in wary confusion. "What are you talking about?"

"Ask your beloved mayor, Brenner. He's the one behind it."

"Behind what?"

"The apocalypse," he said impatiently, as if I should have known. "But I'm not going to be around when it happens. Oh no, they're not going to get me." He looked at us then with a measure of remorse. "I'm sorry I attacked you. I... never really meant to hurt anyone."

Suddenly he turned and scrambled on to the ledge. I instantly stepped forward, my heart pounding.

"Hey, hey- just come down from there okay? We can talk-"

"Oh my god," Scarlett whispered.

He turned around to face us, his face calm but determined. "You ladies watch out for yourselves, all right? They'll try to get you too, if you let them."

"No- _wait_!" I screamed, but it was too late. Catching us off guard with a sudden torrent of water, he turned and jumped. Moments later, there was a sickening thud. A woman screamed from below.

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Are you okay?" I asked Evie, when we were back at Headquarters.

"As okay as anyone can be watching someone off themselves," Evie said dryly as she typed up our report.

I put my shield back in its glass case. "Fair enough."

We'd just spent the last hour giving statements to the police about the escaped villain's suicide. I pulled up a seat next to Evie and realized I'd been wrong- she wasn't working on the report.

"His name was Daniel Vincent. He spent almost twenty years in prison for drowning his parents. He claimed it was an accident," she said.

"What are you doing?"

"I just want to know who he was," she murmured. "He didn't seem like your regular villain."

"Probably because he was crazier than the usual bunch."

Evie gave me a disapproving glance. "You shouldn't speak ill of the dead, villain or not." She closed her eyes briefly before turning to look at me. "What do you think he meant though, about Mayor Brenner and the apocalypse?"

"Probably nothing. I mean he wasn't exactly all there, if you catch my drift."

But as I headed home, I thought about Daniel's words. Most of it didn't make any sense, but Brenner's name was once again brought up. It might have just been a coincidence- the inane ramblings of a religious fanatic. But then, it might not.

There were two messages waiting for me on my voicemail. One was from Dad, asking me to come over for lunch the next day; the other was from Daisy, reminding me in sunny tones that my rent was due before the week was up.

I switched on the television just in time to see a news segment about Thomas Brenner. His popularity had increased since the election according to the latest polls. I watched him as he shook hands with the crowd, with a growing sense of unease. The more I heard about Brenner, the less assured I felt about him.

After a few minutes I switched channels, not noticing or caring what was now on. I eyed the phone, debating for the thousandth time about calling Warren. Though heated words had been exchanged, we hadn't exactly fought. But ultimately I knew it would be a fruitless conversation. I'd said everything I needed to the last time I'd seen him. For now, all I could do was wait.

"I love this show," Paul said, suddenly beside me. He ignored my startled flinch and subsequent swearing. "Remember we used to watch it on the weekends when we were kids? Good times."

"Paul, don't ever scare me like that," I snapped as I shifted away from him.

"I'm sorry," he said seriously, then smiled. "So how are you?"

I shrugged. "I've been better."

"I can imagine. Haven't seen your boyfriend around. Trouble in paradise?"

"Knock it off," I murmured.

"Just calling it like I see it."

"What are you doing here anyway?" I said, ignoring him.

My cousin gave me a swift but defensive look. "What, you don't want me around?"

"I didn't say that, I just-" I exhaled, letting a few moments pass. "Paul, where do you go? I mean, when you're not here."

My cousin gave me a blank look. "Me? I fly all over the world. France, Australia, China- you name it."

I gave him a doubtful look. "Really?"

My cousin chuckled. "Of course not. Why would I want to do that?"

"Because you can," I said quietly. "You don't have any obligations now. You could do whatever you want, go anywhere-"

"But I don't want to go anywhere," Paul objected simply. "I like hanging around here just fine."

"That can't be very exciting for you. I mean, it's not like you can-"

"Hang out with my friends? Go for a walk during the day? I know. But it's not so bad. I go home, watch my parents every now and then. And I get to see you." His face brightened. "Hey, did you take a look at my new pictures yet?"

I remembered the folder he'd brought over, the one currently lying beneath my bed. I didn't feel like getting up to retrieve it at the moment. "Not yet. But I will," I promised.

By then my head was really starting to pound. Paul noticed.

"I'll go just outside the window. That should be easier," he said, getting up. As he climbed onto the fire escape he paused, then turned around, hesitating.

"What is it?" I asked him.

"It's- it's okay that I visit you, right?" he asked nervously. "I'll never stay too long. It's just... I don't have many other places to go."

There was such resigned sadness in the way he spoke. I couldn't possibly refuse him. "Sure, of course it's okay."

He grinned. Settling himself, he stuck his head and shoulders back in to watch what I finally realized was some old family sitcom from our childhood.

I marveled at how incredibly strange everything around me had become; the flow of bright and precarious everyday life punctuated by unexpected visits from my beloved but unequivocally dead cousin. It was like something out of a bad horror movie.

_Things couldn't possibly get any crazier than this_, I thought to myself.

I couldn't have been more wrong.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"I don't think the sweet potatoes came out right."

"Everything's wonderful, Mom. Really."

Dad nodded in agreement. My mother smiled.

I was having lunch with my parents. It had been some time since I'd seen Mom off the couch or out of bed, and longer still since the three of us had a meal as a family. A stab of nostalgia hit me as I realized I'd always taken these meals for granted.

"We're really happy you were able to come," my mother said, but her voice sounded... off somehow. "We- we wanted to talk to you."

She glanced at my father, who added, "Oh, yes. Right. Something very important."

There was something tremulous in the way he said it that made my appetite vanish instantly. "What is it?"

"You know how your mother hasn't been feeling very well lately?"

"I thought it was just the stress of everything that's been happening," Mom interjected softly. "So I went to the doctor. Well, it turns out that it wasn't just stress."

Slowly, I set down my fork. "Oh my god. Are you sick? Is it serious?"

"Anna, calm down-"

"I don't want to calm down. Please, just tell me what's wrong!"

"Sweetheart-" she glanced at Dad, "I'm going to have a baby."

I stared at her dumbfounded, as the meaning of her words sunk in.

"You're... pregnant?" I managed to choke out.

Mom nodded, then laughed nervously. "Isn't it wonderful? You're going to be a big sister!"

I looked down at my plate quietly, stunned and oddly embarrassed. Mom was going to have a _baby_? They couldn't be serious.

"Aren't you going to say anything?" Dad asked after a full minute of terse silence had passed.

I glanced at him, then at my mother. Despite their nervousness, I could see how happy they were. It finally hit me- this was no joke.

With some effort, I forced a smile. "That's- that's great. I'm really happy for you guys. Congratulations."

They glowed at the words, relief almost obscuring their joy. "I'm very glad you feel that way," Dad said. "Because we wanted to ask you if-"

"Charles," Mom interjected. "Not right now."

"No, what? What is it?" I asked.

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I left the house soon after that, needing some time to myself. I walked to the bus stop in a sort of half-daze. In the blink of an eye everything had changed; the world altered forever into something that I couldn't decide was good or bad yet. I felt disoriented, confused and just a little angry.

Mom was almost three months along in her pregnancy, and she and Dad knew about it the whole time. When I asked why they didn't tell me sooner, they gave me some halfhearted excuse about not wanting to burden me further with everything that had been happening with the city. I wasn't buying it.

They'd asked me their favor: permission to turn my old room into a nursery for the baby. I told them it was all right, that it really wasn't my room anymore.

But somehow, it felt like I was lying.


	13. Apocalypse How?

Terribly late update, I know. Simply put, things have been complicated. But the new chapter's here, so...yay! Thanks **arnold the female purple pygmy puff **for being my beta! And thanks to everyone that reviewed- you make my day brighter! :)

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sky High, or any of its canon characters.**

**Chapter Thirteen- Apocalypse How?**

When I was younger, I had my future more or less planned out. I would graduate from Sky High and take on a cover that made me rich and successful. Paul and I would of course team up to save the world on a daily basis in the most spectacular and impressive ways, and we'd all live happily ever after. Naturally.

I was about eight at the time.

I remembered this as I mopped up spilled juice in Aisle One and couldn't help but smile cynically to myself. It didn't take long for me to figure out that life almost never turned out the way one expected it to. Here I was living on my own, working at a grocery store and just managing to cover my rent at the expense of a new pair of shoes that I really needed.

But those thoughts didn't depress me. Everything that led me up to this point had been the result of my own choices. I was becoming an adult, in all the ways that mattered.

My shift ended just after lunch. I grabbed my bag and headed outside through the employee exit. I was almost to the bus stop when I saw him.

Warren was parked just across the street. My heart rate picking up slightly, I changed direction and was at the car within moments. Through the rolled up window I could see him sitting there uncomfortably. Then I opened the passenger door and got in.

I watched him for a while as he made a visibly conscious effort not to flinch. Finally I took pity on him and made the first offering at reconciliation.

"Hey," I said.

"Hey," he echoed with a sense of relief.

I'd put up with nearly three weeks of Warren's blatant avoidance. Even Evan got some measure of the cold shoulder. I wanted to be upset at the most; disappointed in him at the very least. But being here now suddenly made it all irrelevant. I was just glad to see him.

"You all right?" I asked after some moments had passed.

Warren hesitated. Looking away, he shook his head.

"Not really," he admitted. Clearing his throat, he immediately changed the subject. "So where to?"

I smiled sympathetically. "Wherever you like."

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The windows were open and a warm breeze blew in. It dispelled the vague sense of intimidation that usually comes from being somewhere new for the first time. The room was tidy in that hastily done way. There were the usual things one expects to find in any room, but each item seemed inescapably valued: family photographs shone in their polished frames; textbooks were stacked neatly on the desk; newspaper clippings were carefully placed on the cream-colored walls, though they did little to hide the scorch marks that lay beneath.

I stared at the latter with interest. They were cut-out articles detailing the conquests of various Heroes. Some were about his mother Samantha, others depicted more contemporary Heroes. There was a snippet about the late Debbie Bernstein, who'd died saving a bridge full of people, and even pieces detailing Kylie's and Jonah's exploits.

I followed the journalistic trail until something caught my eye. In the corner near the door, were a small handful of cutouts. They didn't recount much, but the words 'White Star' and 'Scarlett' stood out clearly- a reassuring testament that someone was watching.

"So what do you think?"

I turned around to see Warren standing in the doorway.

"I think your room is bigger than my whole studio," I told him, only half-kidding. My eyes rested upon a photograph of a smiling little boy on a nearby table.

"Is this you?" I asked, picking it up.

"Oh man," he muttered with poorly concealed embarrassment. "Uh, yeah. First day of school."

"God, you were so adorable," I said admiringly. But I couldn't resist adding, "What happened?"

"Ha ha."

I chuckled, placing the picture back. There were others- mainly of Warren and his mom. I didn't see any pictures of his father.

Samantha had returned to Moscow. Warren didn't know much else about it, except that she was due to return at the end of the month, which was in two weeks. But I could tell that her silence still bothered him.

Warren made us an early dinner. We kept the conversation deliberately casual, not going further than our last encounter with some nameless civilian who broke the law. I wanted to tell him about the upcoming addition to the Arrian family. So far I hadn't told anyone about it, not even Evie. But I sensed that Warren was holding something back as well. Every now and then he would give me this look that was just shy of tortuous. Browsing through an old photo album, I waited patiently for him to have out with it. But when one hour became two, which inadvertently turned to three, I couldn't take it anymore. I closed the book and asked him outright.

"Is there something on your mind?"

"No," he answered, looking as shifty as I'd ever seen him.

"Are you su-"

"I lied to you."

I blinked at his abruptness. His words rushed out swift and shocking, like someone ripping off a bandaid. He wouldn't look at me.

"About what?" I asked, when he made no effort to elaborate.

"Where I was going that night."

There was only one night he could be referring to. I remembered Warren, silent and visibly shaken, and the subsequent news of his father's death. Given the events of the past few days I wasn't sure if I could handle any more surprises. But I tried to steel myself for whatever he was going to say next.

"It was my father. He's the one I went to see." He buried his face in his hands for a moment, before continuing. "He said that someone was after him and he needed my help. He sounded freaked. And I knew that something was wrong, because Dad- Dad's never scared."

"Did he know who was after him?" I asked softly.

Warren shook his head. "I don't think so. He just told me to meet him at this condemned building on the corner of Archer and Bond. I got there and it was dark, quiet. I called him, but no one answered. I didn't know what to make of it. Then I saw him. But just for a moment... before everything started coming down." His voice became a rough whisper as he stared at the floor.

The minutes passed and a vague bitterness came over his expression. "I guess it's what we deserved."

"How can you say that?" I asked him, my voice sounding more reproachful than I meant it to.

"Because I was going to help him, Anna."

I thought I'd prepared myself for anything. I was wrong.

"What?"

There was that tortured quality in his eyes again. "He asked me to get him out of Maxville. I didn't even hesitate. I was going to do it."

Warren exhaled softly, his eyes falling closed. "I remembered every sick thing he'd ever done, all the people he'd killed. And I didn't care. I was going to set him loose on the world... just because he asked me to." He looked up at me at last. "What kind of Hero am I?"

I could see how deeply this was affecting him- the horrible truth of what he would have done if that building hadn't come down. But I didn't want to think of such a terrible prospect. A mistake had been averted, at the expense of a tragedy. Wordlessly, I pulled him into an embrace.

"A human one," I reminded him.

"That doesn't make it all right," he murmured insistently into my shoulder. "What I was going to do-"

"Was a mistake," I said firmly. "One mistake. It doesn't define who you are."

But I wasn't sure he believed me.

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"We need a zero tolerance policy for high risk super villains. And that is just what I intend to implement. Maxville is one of the super being centers of the world and I believe that we can virtually eliminate the threat entirely."

"No offense Mayor Brenner, but that's a pretty big claim. How exactly do you intend to do that?"

"With an innovative form of prisoner rehabilitation. Once completed, not only will they be reintegrated into the community as well-adjusted citizens, but I believe that this program will be a considerable deterrent for future villainous activity."

"Can you give us some idea of what this rehabilitation process entails?"

Brenner smiled. "I'm sorry, but I'm not at liberty to discuss the finer details at present. But rest assured, there will come a time when everything will be made available to the public."

"What would you say to those who seem skeptical as to the validity this program?"

"Well, I don't think I'd need to justify anything. With time, I believe the results will speak for themselves."

Mayor Brenner's words caused quite a stir. Reactions were mixed from both the Hero and citizen communities. Some approached the mayor's claims with cynicism, others were more open-minded, even hopeful. In the few short months he'd been in office, Brenner had begun to enforce his plans for improved public spending-more funding for increased security in schools and other public buildings; better lighting and a stronger police presence in more crime-ridden neighborhoods, all in his spirited effort to deter crime.

I found myself actively following Brenner on the news. According to the latest public polls, his popularity increased after the election. Even his critics had to admit his dedication to Maxville and the positive changes he'd already brought to the city.

But these actions did nothing to relieve my concern. I remembered Daniel Vincent, the hydrokinetic villain I'd encountered some weeks before. He'd seemed to think that Brenner was responsible for something, and it terrified Daniel enough to kill himself. Clearly the poor man had been unhinged, but I knew that even the most delusional people had their psychosis based upon some fact. Why did he name Brenner of all people? And what had he really meant by an oncoming 'apocalypse'?

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Hi Mom," I said, kissing her on the cheek as soon as I walked through the door. I automatically looked her over, but I couldn't see any signs of her pregnancy other than some slight weight gain.

I'd been coming around the house a lot more lately to help my mother with chores and errands. She'd insisted repeatedly that I didn't have to, but I felt an obligation to do whatever I could to help her out.

"Anna," Mom said with barely suppressed excitement, "You'll never guess who's here!"

Before I could make an attempt to, I heard my father's voice coming from his study:

"Is that Anna? Tell her to come in here. We have guests!"

I gave my mother a questioning look, but she simply nodded towards the study door. With a shrug, I went to the door and opened it.

I froze in the doorway. Before me sat my father, Mayor Thomas Brenner and his secretary Marion Horton.

Mayor Brenner and Mr. Horton stood up respectfully as I finally entered the room.

"Miss Arrian, it is so wonderful to see you again!" Brenner enthused as he shook my hand. Turning to my father he added, "Charlie I have to say, you've raised a fine young lady. I definitely see a wonderful career in store for her."

"What's Mr. Brenner talking about?" I asked as politely as I could manage.

Dad smiled, too brightly. "Thomas was telling me about some job opportunities that came up in his office and I uh, happened to mention that you were in the market. We were discussing potential positions for you..."

I kept my demeanor perfectly passive if only for my mother's sake, as Dad flustered through a weak explanation of why he'd taken liberties to make decisions for me yet again. When he'd finished tossing words like '401K' and 'health insurance' around, I turned to Mr. Brenner.

"Thank you for your interest, but I don't think so."

"Annie, you don't even know what the positions are," my father half-pleaded.

And I don't care, I wanted to say, but restrained myself. Mr. Brenner had been nothing short of polite to me even though I'd all but accused him of being involved in the Crystal Hall collapse. Still, I didn't trust him nearly enough to accept any favors.

"I'm sorry Dad, but it's not what I want."

"And there's no better reason to decline than that," Thomas Brenner said kindly, before my father could object again. "Just know that if you ever change your mind, all you have to do is give me a call. Charlie has my number."

"Mayor," Mr. Horton said, speaking up for the first time since I got there. "We should be going or you'll miss your three 'o clock."

I couldn't stand the man's raspy voice. Even Dad winced slightly.

"Oh, I almost forgot. Thank you Marion." Mr. Brenner turned to Dad. "I'm sorry I have to cut this short, Charlie."

"Not at all Thomas, not at all," Dad said, getting up and walking him to the door. "It certainly was a surprise to see the Mayor of Maxville at my door."

Mr. Brenner laughed. "Enough of that. I'm still the guy you beat mercilessly in Save the Citizen. I'll be sure to visit again soon."

Mr. Brenner then said his goodbyes to my mother, and congratulated her on her pregnancy. Mom was absolutely glowing.

When they left, Dad looked at me with more than a little disappointment. But with Mom present and in her current condition, for once he didn't argue the matter.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

When I told Warren and the twins about my mother's pregnancy, they pretty much reacted in the pleasantly surprised way I thought they would. But none more so than Evie.

"Oh my shorts, that's awesome! Is it going to be a boy or a girl? Can I babysit? Have your parents picked out any names? You guys will need a babysitter, right?"

"Of course they won't, Evie," Evan said. "Anna's gonna do all the babysitting."

I shot him a stricken look.

"Well don't look so freaked about it," Warren said. "I mean this is good news, right??"

"Yeah, of course it is." I didn't sound very convincing.

Evie patted my knee. "Come on Anna, babies are great. They're so cute, with their tiny little hands and their adorable little faces." She practically had stars in her eyes. "Gosh, you're so lucky."

I didn't feel very lucky. The whole thing was too major for me. Murderous villains, violent encounters that left me bruised and bloody- those I could handle. But a new baby brother or sister seemed terrifying.

"I know what this is," Evan said matter of factly. "I've read about it. Classic case of sibling jealousy."

"Don't be ridiculous," I said defensively. "Why on earth would I be jealous?"

"Because you're not going to be your parent's only pride and joy anymore. From the moment that baby's born, you're going to have to spend the rest of their lives vying for their love and affection," Evan said with all the certainty of an indisputable fact.

"Oh come on," Warren said, but Evan was undaunted.

"It's true. Statistics prove it. The youngest child is generally favored. Not to mention you don't even live with them anymore. That kid is practically going to be your replacement. I'd be careful if I were you."

"Evan!" Evie scolded. "That is such crap and you know it. Besides, everyone knows I'm Mom's favorite and I'm older than you."

Evan glared at her, clearly offended. "Okay first off, fifty-four seconds does not make you the all-powerful senior. Secondly, I'm Mom's favorite. She told me so herself."

Evie's jaw dropped. "She did not!"

"She might as well have!"

"Oh, you little liar!"

Evie grabbed her brother in a headlock and had him kissing the floor in a matter of seconds. Warren immediately got out of the way.

"Get off me!" Evan yelled, trying to wrestle out of her grip.

"Who's the favorite now?" Evie growled triumphantly.

I rolled my eyes and got up, leaving the two scuffling on the ground. "Hey, watch the TV," I heard Warren say as I went to clean up the dishes we'd used.

Evie and Evan weren't exactly painting a reassuring picture for me about sibling life. But I doubted I'd be getting into fights. After all, I'd be almost nineteen years its senior. The thought made me stop dead in my tracks: when my brother or sister reached my current age... I'd be pushing forty.

My old resentment flared up again. How could my parents do this? They were in their forties themselves. That was no age to be starting over with a new baby!

My angry thoughts surprised me. I wondered if Evan was right, if maybe I was a little jealous. It seemed petty and absurd to be resentful of a baby at my age. My parents were elated. They were going to have a child in the house again, something I suspected my mother missed when I grew up, and even more so when I'd moved out. I should be happy for them. I took a deep breath to calm myself down. I had to think of something else.

Warren came over as the twins continued to hash it out. He was better, calmer since the night he'd brought me to his home and admitted the truth. I'd seen him on several occasions since then and soon discovered a change: Barron Battle was no longer a taboo subject. There were no substantial revelations on his part, just the things that he wanted to remember- a fishing trip they had when Warren was seven; the one Christmas and two birthdays Barron came home for. It was during one of these times he told me simply and without reservation, that he missed him.

I knew that Warren was still far from okay. But he was getting there, and that made all the difference.

"Seems like Evie's more excited about this than you are," he commented as I began to wash the dishes.

"I don't know what's wrong with me. I mean, I'm happy for my parents, but..."

"You don't want things to change," he finished.

I sighed. "I know it's selfish."

"Yeah well, we've all been there. I wouldn't worry too much about it."

"Says the only child," I said wryly, and he smiled.

It was the first time I'd seen him smile like that in weeks. An unexpected surge of affection came over me at the realization, and it wasn't until Warren looked at me curiously that I realized I'd been staring.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, yeah. Just drifted for a second," I murmured uncomfortably before turning my attention back to the sink.

"Oh please," Evie said to her brother as she left him groaning on the floor. She squeezed herself between Warren and me in the tiny space that served as a kitchenette.

"Don't worry, Anna," she told me. "You might not feel like it now, but when the baby comes, everything's going to be great. You'll fall in love. You'll see."


	14. Unforeseen

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sky High, or any of its canon characters.**

**Chapter Fourteen- Unforeseen**

The year was coming to a close and final exams were upon us. Well, Warren. Over the next two weeks my tiny studio was overcome with papers, assignment lists, random textbooks and battered notebooks, with Warren moving among them like a frantic but determined ghost, muttering dates and definitions under his breath. Since my place was only a couple of blocks away from campus, I offered him the study space.

"Come on, let's watch a movie or something," I suggested one evening after three hours of almost meditative studying had passed.

"I can't- Psychology exam's tomorrow," Warren muttered as he glared into an open textbook.

"You've been studying that thing for weeks. Trust me- if you don't know it by now, you're never going to." With that, I tugged the book out of his hands. "Take a break, just for an hour or so."

There a moment of mutinous reluctance, but in the end he relented.

"Fine," he said. "But just an hour. Then I have to go over those last chapters."

"Awesome," I said cheerfully and switched on the television. "I don't see why you're worried anyway. You know you'll ace this, just like all the others."

"I haven't exactly been keeping up lately," he said.

I heard the meaning in this voice. "You'll be fine," I said confidently.

We ended up going back to the books after a half hour of watching Warren shuffle restlessly. Midnight approached and he began putting everything into a saner order. When he was done, he stretched and rubbed his eyes.

"Sure you're okay to drive?"

"Yeah. Besides, I think I used enough of your time." He glanced around. "And your space."

"Well, you know I don't mind." I'd meant to sound light, but there was something decidedly genuine in the words.

Warren's hand found mine, and he gave it a gentle squeeze. "I know," he said softly. "I'll see you tomorrow, tell you how it went."

When he left I sank onto the couch, tired and uncertain and strangely thrilled. But such feelings weren't new. It had been happening a lot lately, almost like clockwork; my general happiness whenever Warren was around, the subtextual melancholy I felt when he went away. The revelation came to me as the weeks progressed and Warren began to act more like himself- perhaps there was something to my father's suspicions about why I moved out after all.

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"Just let me explain," Evie said pleadingly when we were in Headquarters.

"Have you officially lost it?" I shouted, furious and shaken. "I mean are you _trying_ to kill yourself?"

"They were going to shoot that lady!"

"Never mind the lady- I was handling it! You were having an asthma attack, and still trying to fight them!"

"I took the guy down, didn't I?" she retorted and immediately realized that was a mistake.

I turned to glare at her. "Are you freaking kidding me? Evie, that's not the point! You passed out. You stopped _breathing_."

Evie bit her lip. "That's never happened before, I swear. Next time, I'll-"

"'Next time'?" I spluttered. "There's not going to _be_ a next time. I don't want you powering up out there again."

"But Anna, I-"

"That wasn't a request!"

Evie fell silent. For a moment she just stood there, her expression a mixture of hurt and mild surprise.

"Oh," she said quietly. "Of course." She picked up her jacket and headed towards the exit. There she hesitated briefly, as if unwilling to step outside and face the world. Then squaring her shoulders, she walked through the door.

I hated myself for what I did, but it had to be done. I couldn't let Evie continue to put herself in unnecessary danger. Over the last couple of weeks she'd become unpredictable, almost erratic on the job.

And it all started with the news that Kylie Jordan and Jonah Mackenzie were engaged.

It was announced in nearly every major newspaper- apparently it was quite a big deal that two of the world's best super heroes were going to be married. Evie brushed it off as no big deal, saying that she barely knew Jonah anyway. But as time went by, she began pushing herself to the point of recklessness whenever it came to apprehending villains. I'd tried to ignore it, telling myself it was just one of her moods; a temporary thing. But tonight she had gone too far.

I took the long way home that night, listening to the low hum of electricity that permeates every city and trying not to feel like the scum of the earth.

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"Mom's back," Warren informed me, suffering through a beef stew I'd made that had far too much of something and far too little of something else. I'd given up on it after the first couple of bites but Warren continued on in a way that was both admirable and a little ridiculous.

"That's great," I said. "When did she arrive?"

"Last night. I picked her up at the airport, asked her if she had a nice trip. She gave me that look."

"What look?"

"The look parents give you when they think you're being a smart ass."

I suppressed a grin. "_Were_ you being a smart ass?"

"Absolutely," he said, before bracing himself to take another bite.

"You shouldn't be so hard on her, Warren," I reasoned. "Maybe your mom _can't_ tell you why she left."

"Maybe," he echoed without much conviction.

I grimaced sympathetically as he tried to have another go at the dinner I'd made. "Oh, just give up already."

"What? It's not that bad," he lied.

"I think we can label you the official chef. Want to order in?"

Warren regarded me for a moment, seeming to consider it. After a second's hesitation he said, "Why don't we go out instead?"

It was a simple enough suggestion, but my face turned warm nonetheless. "Sure, uh... where are we headed?"

Smiling, he got up and handed me my jacket. "Let's find out."

We went to a tiny place at the edge of East Maxville, a place so obscure it had no name. About fifty people were crammed into it, though I suspected it was only meant to hold about half that much. Flickering phosphorescent lights highlighted the ugly linoleum that covered the floor. Most of the people there looked dodgy at best: curses and the smell of good cooking filled the air.

After ordering, Warren shouted over the noise of how his father first brought him here when he was six; how they had the best chipotle burgers anywhere; how his mother never forgave his dad for bringing him to a place like this.

But the food _was_ amazing, which more than made up for its setting. Halfway through the meal an altercation erupted between two men who argued over who was supposed to order next, and I immediately shot to my feet. But Warren motioned for me to sit back down, which I did, reluctantly. Fierce profanities were exchanged as well as some spirited shoving. But the cook soon came storming out from the back and threatened in no uncertain terms to close everything down if they didn't shut the hell up. That simple threat diffused the situation almost instantly- the two men backed off, considerably subdued. When things had calmed down, I asked Warren in a low voice if the cook would ever make good on such a threat. Warren told me he'd probably never have to.

But despite the sticky floors, bad lighting and questionable clientele, I could see why he loved this place. It was easy to blend in here, to escape everything. We were no longer Heroes, or even two kids burdened by our own personal tragedies. Tonight we were shadows and background noise, oblivious and wonderfully invisible.

After dinner and a conversation about nothing at all we got out of there, trailing smoke and shouting behind us. Outside it had grown colder. A street performer in a nearby square was playing what I suspected were covers from an old folk band. The music was mediocre at best, but I was loving every minute. Warren watched it all with a general contentment. Things definitely seemed to be getting better for him. His mother was home at last and now that his exams were finished, life was finally returning to some sense of normalcy.

When the song was over, I told him in an embarrassingly shy tone, "This was... nice."

He grinned at me warmly. "Definitely one of the better nights I've had," he agreed in a semi-conspiratorial tone, as he wrapped an arm around my shoulders and pulled me closer.

And just like that, every uncertainty I had regarding exactly how much Warren meant to me vanished. There I was, standing in the cold damp air with sticky shoes and the onset of a sore throat, and realized that this was the single most romantic moment of my life.

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"The time's come at long last, for the beginning of our city's reform," Mr. Brenner said grandly, as he beamed at the flashing cameras. "The program has been approved by our city council and this time next week, the way we view super villains will be forever altered. At this time, I'd be more than happy to answer any questions you have."

And so he did. For the next ten minutes he went through a slew of shouted questions trying to shed light and allay fears. No, this prisoner rehabilitation program would not employ city funds. Yes, it can be completed in as little time as a week, but the results will be highly effective-

"There's a rumor stating that part of the rehabilitation process includes semi to full neutralization of the subject's powers, the effects of which are permanent," one of the reporters said. "Can you confirm that?"

Brenner's confident demeanor faltered for only a moment. "I can," he confirmed evenly. "Yes, one of the components of this program does involve power neutralization, which in some cases can be permanent. But that only applies to extremely high risk villains. I can tell you however, that neutralization will always be considered only as a last resort."

...

I waited patiently in Mayor Brenner's office. My emotions were running high but I kept myself in check. Had Warren been in my position however, I wasn't sure if he could... or would even want to.

I'd received a letter from Mayor Brenner one morning, informing me of an administrative position which was currently available in his office. I thought it surprising considering I'd made it plain that I wasn't interested, but I suspected my father might have had a hand in it. I was just about to refuse yet again, when the memory of the last time I'd received a letter came back to me.

And in a flash of revelation, a months-old mystery was suddenly resolved.

After recovering from the initial shock, I murmured an answer in the affirmative and watched the letter swiftly crumble into dust.

Brenner walked in then and I automatically straightened up. He flashed me one of his automatic smiles as he walked around his desk and took a seat.

"A pleasure Miss Arrian, as always," he said, smiling. "Now I've looked over your resume and the job is yours if you want it- this interview is just a formality. But I thought I should inform you of the details. The pay is quite satisfactory, especially for an entry-level position, and the benefits-"

"I have a confession to make, Mr. Brenner," I cut in. "I'm not really interested in the job. I just had to make sure that I could meet with you, seeing as you have a such a busy schedule."

Brenner gave me a quizzical look. "I don't understand."

"Maybe this could clear things up," I said handing him an envelope.

"What is this?"

"A letter. Well, your letter. What's left of it anyway," I explained, watching him grow pale as he poured the contents of the envelope into his hand. "Pretty neat trick, the way it just...falls apart on cue like that."

Brenner fixed me with a grave look. "I think I know what you're implying. And I have to say, I don't appreciate it."

"Really?" I asked, all pretense at politeness now gone. "Well I can't say I'm surprised. Still, paper that falls to pieces can't be bought at your local stationery store."

"You stop right there," he said sharply. "Now I've put up with your insinuating accusations purely out of respect for your father. But I am not going to tolerate it any longer. I had nothing to do with the collapse of either of those buildings and unless you have something that proves otherwise, I'd advise you to get out."

"You and I both know this isn't a coincidence," I told him quietly.

"Marion!" Brenner shouted.

The door opened and Mr. Horton stuck his head in. "Yes sir?"

"Will you kindly escort Miss Arrian out of my office?"

"Of course. Miss Arrian?"

I got up and went through the door, shrugging off Mr. Horton's hand on my shoulder.

Mr. Brenner was right. Empty accusations without evidence (save for a handful dust that might have come from my kitchen floor) would get me nowhere. And I didn't dare tell anyone my suspicions; not my father, because I feared he wouldn't believe me, and certainly not Warren, because I feared that he would. I couldn't ignore the fact that if Warren knew who was responsible for his father's death, he'd kill them without a second thought.

No. I'd draw the culprit out into the open, make them confess and let the justice system run its course. Maybe if I'd done such a thing in the beginning, my cousin would still be alive.

I got home and found Evie sitting in front of my door, dismembering a sandwich in a wrapper on her lap. I hadn't seen her since that night I'd forbidden her to use her powers on the job. She glanced up at me with a small smile, then turned back to her lunch.

I sat down beside her and watched her devour a small pile of shredded lettuce, before setting to work on the tomatoes. "Were you waiting long?"

"Not really."

"Oh. Good."

For a while, I didn't know what else to say. But Evie broke the ice first.

"You were right," she said somberly, poking at her bread slices. "To tell me to stop using my powers, I mean. It was stupid, trying to be something I'm not. Guess I just wanted to convince myself that I could be as good as... well, her."

So there was the truth of it. Kylie Jordan, wreaking her own special havoc yet again. I knew it was unintentional this time around, but try as I might I couldn't remember ever hating anyone this much.

"You don't have to prove anything. You are a million times better than she could ever be," I told her truthfully. "Evie...you're amazing."

Evie looked up me, wiping some mayonnaise from the corner of her mouth. "That's funny. Because I've been feeling the exact opposite of amazing."

I shook my head sympathetically. "You can't let her get to you. She's not worth it."

"Oh, it's not just about her. I... I should've told him," she mumbled, blushing. "That first time I saw Jonah in Power Placement, I almost talked to him. But there Kylie was, all red-haired and perfect."

"Believe me, she's far from perfect."

"There she always was," Evie continued, as if she hadn't heard me. "And I lost my nerve every single time. But I shouldn't have let her stop me. I should've just walked right up to him and told him how I felt. Now it's too late."

It hurt me to see Evie so heartbroken. I felt even worse for having yelled at her that night, and everything in me wanted to apologize for my angry outburst, to take back everything I said. But I couldn't- for Evie's sake.

"I have to go to work now," she said, wrapping up the remainder of her sandwich and standing up. "Just thought I'd talk to you before I headed over there. "Are we patrolling tonight?"

"No, not tonight," I told her, which was essentially a lie.

"Okay. I'll see you later then."

I watched Evie make her way down the stairs, then stared into nothingness for a long time. Finally, I heaved myself to my feet. I had a long night ahead of me.

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I stood before the remains of a condemned building- the place where Warren's father had died. I buttoned up my jacket and shivered a little. It was now midnight- I'd been here for the better part of two hours. I'd had a good long time to think during that time. I knew the what and who of the matter, but still couldn't figure out the why.

"You're very insistent, aren't you?"

I turned sharply. Marion Horton was standing a few feet away, staring at the ruins. He ran his hand idly over the metal barricade that cordoned off the rubble. After a moment or two, it disintegrated into a pile of rust.

"Pretty much," I said. When he made no attempt at speaking again, I added, "Did Brenner put you up to it?"

"Of course not."

I blinked in surprise. "Then why-"

"Because it had to be done," he snapped in his horrible raspy voice.

"That's not good enough," I said angrily. "You killed people. You almost killed me and my friends!"

"I'm sorry about that- you were never the intended target. But this a very complicated matter."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "I'm a very patient listener."

He laughed at that; a half-choking sound. "Your intentions to bring me to justice are admirable, Miss Arrian. But in the broader scope of things, extremely insignificant. There are bigger and more devastating forces at work here. And it's all going to come to a head very soon."

"What are you talking about?" I said impatiently.

Mr. Horton looked at me and for the first time, his neutral expression dissolved into a troubled one. "I'm talking about the Apocalypse Project."

I stared at him in surprise. "What did you say?"

But before he could answer, a fireball burst into my line of vision and struck him in the face with incredible force. I heard the snap of his neck; knew he was dead before he hit the ground. In total shock, I stared at the smoldering remains of what was once his face. Then slowly, unwillingly, I turned around.

I could almost hear my father's voice in my head screaming at me to run as fast as I could. But unadulterated fear immobilized me as I saw the man who'd caused more devastation to the world than anyone had the right to inflict.

Amidst the wreckage and the debris, Barron Battle stood tall, a charismatic arrogance in his very stance. He gazed at me pleasantly as if he hadn't just killed a man in cold blood. His next word was simple, but it held me in place with terrifying promise.

"Hi."


	15. Evelyn Domagas, Hero

Many apologies for the horribly late update! I was away from a computer for two months on top of the difficulty of this **long** chapter. My future updates won't be nearly this late, I promise.

Thanks to all that reviewed during the unexpected hiatus and special thanks to **arnold the female purple pygmy puff** for her beta work!

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sky High, or any of its canon characters.**

**Chapter Fifteen- Evelyn Domagas, Hero**

"Marion, Marion," Barron Battle clucked sympathetically as he looked down at Mr. Horton's partially charred corpse. Then he looked up at me. "It's beautiful, the fight or flight mechanism. Your heart races, the adrenaline screams through you. Right now you're probably thinking of trying to run. Or stop me. That's what your gut's telling you, isn't it? But I'd advise against it. Either way, you won't win."

Every instinct I possessed told me he was right. Though Barron looked completely nonthreatening, I just knew: one miscalculation on my part would prove fatal.

I tried to swallow the sudden dryness in my throat. "You're...you're supposed to be-"

"I know. Fortunately, reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated." He paused, smiling. "I've always wanted to say that."

He must have seen the confusion in my eyes because it prompted him to add, "Anthony Tovak. Brilliant shape-shifter, but not too quick on the uptake."

My shock momentarily won out over my initial fear. "You tricked him."

"I didn't have to. He knew how important the cause was. He also knew that someone was after me so he agreed to be my decoy. Good thing too, huh?"

"What do you want?"

Barron didn't answer at first. Then his smile faded somewhat.

"Only for you to listen."

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I was taken into the remains of the building- or rather, the rooms underneath it- with pathetically little resistance on my part. But my reaction wasn't without reason. Years of unspeakable acts fueled his reputation to almost legendary proportions: a monster without mercy, cold and blazing all at once, one who dealt out death and nightmares with a smile. And now here he was once again, beyond the reassuring walls of a prison.

It was dark inside. Barron was walking around with purposeful steps as if he were looking for something. Then there was the soft unmistakable crackle of a record player before music began to play.

The world suddenly flooded with light and I squinted in the brightness. I was in a room which was mostly empty, save for a small table and a beat-up looking wardrobe. And there in the center of it all was Barron. He was now donning what I recognized as his old Hero costume. Stepping in front of the wardrobe, he admired himself in the cracked mirror.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," he said, watching my feeble attempts to edge away from him in the reflection. When I persisted he added, "Seriously, little lady. Move again and I'll incinerate each and every one of those precious fingers."

His tone was light, friendly. But what I saw in his eyes was the unmistakable certainty that he meant what he said. I stopped moving, feeling hopeless.

"Man, it sure feels good to be back in the suit," Barron enthused, looking at himself again. "You can have the powers and the talent but when it comes right down to it, if you don't have the suit you got nothing. Know what I mean?"

I didn't answer him, refusing to indulge in his delusion of a normal conversation.

"'Course you don't," he continued, undaunted. "You haven't been in this sweet game long enough. But trust me- you'll come to appreciate it."

"They'll stop you," I said, ignoring him. "Whatever you're up to, you're not going to get away with it."

"Do you even know what 'it' is?" Barron asked, then laughed. "Oh, you're Charlie's girl all right. Think the world's neatly divided into good guys and bad guys. Frankly, I don't blame you. But you're wrong. Believe it or not, I'm trying to save you all."

It was the last thing I expected him to say. None of this was going according to super villain protocol at all. "What are you talking about?"

Barron turned around to look at me, allowing long seconds of silence to pass before he spoke again. "A long time ago, before you were even a gleam in Charlie's eye, I started a project for the protection and advancement of super beings. Back then the world wasn't as accepting of us as it is now- people being afraid of what's different and all that. One accident or misuse of our powers and that was it. We were executed or locked away, often for good. I wanted to change that.

"I wasn't alone. I had supporters- rich and powerful people- and for a while we were making strides. But the government viewed me as nothing more than a dangerous radical. And for every step I made, they sent me several steps back."

"Is that when you decided mass murder would be more productive?" I asked cynically.

Barron remained unfazed. "I had no choice. Thomas Brenner saw to that."

I couldn't keep the surprise out of my voice. "What does he have to do with it?"

"Didn't you know? He was one of my biggest supporters. Before he lost his mind and decided that neutralizing super beings was better than any plan we could devise to protect ourselves."

"You mean neutralizing super villains."

"No. I mean _all_ of us. Brenner took the plans we made for a socially aware super villain reform and twisted it into his own personal agenda for a complete obliteration of our kind. He thought he kept it under wraps, but word got out pretty quickly at the MCF. Me and the inmates called it the Apocalypse Project- our own little joke."

For a moment I was silent as his words sunk in. "No, that- that doesn't make any sense. He's a super himself. Why would he do that?"

"Because he's a self hating lunatic who thinks the world would be better off without people like us. When I found out he was running for mayor, I knew it was only a matter of time before it started. So I got out, to find Brenner and the weapon- and get rid of them both."

A sharp flare of terror threatened to overwhelm me. "You're going to kill me aren't you?"

"What makes you you say that?"

"Why else would you be telling me all of this?"

Barron chuckled. "I guess you've heard all the stories about me. Reckon Charlie's even told you one or two. But I'm not what people say I am, little girl."

"My name is Anna," I told him coldly.

"Oh, I know who you are. The girl with her past etched right into her face," he said, tapping his left cheek for emphasis. "Doing whatever it takes for the greater good, no matter what the cost. Sound familiar? We're really not that different, you and I."

"That's not the same thing and you know it," I snapped. "What I did was an accident-"

Barron's laughter cut me off. "Is that what you've convinced yourself? That it was an _accident_? No, little lady. You chose to kill your cousin because you knew what the alternative would be: your own death, or mine, or my son's. You made the choice the moment you stepped into my containment cell."

"That's a lie." My voice came out in a broken whisper.

"No it's not. And you know it too."

I couldn't handle it. His smugness, the horrible possibility of his words and my own furious terror made it all too much. "And yet I still didn't screw up as badly as you. At least _my_ family still respects me."

That wiped the smile off his face instantly. "What did you say?"

"You heard me."

He regarded me darkly before turning away. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"Yeah I do. I read all about you. The terrible Barron Battle who killed men, women and children, all in the name of insurrection-"

"There are people out there trying to eradicate us!" he shot back vehemently. "I did what I had to!"

"I don't think you believed anyone was ever going to give in to your demands. I think you killed those people just to send a message."

"Shut up," Barron said quietly, but I didn't listen.

"You pretend you're proud of what you've done. But was it worth it? Proving to your family that the cause was more important than them?"

"I told you to shut up-"

"Warren still loved you, even after everything you'd done. For god's sake, you made him think he watched you die-"

"_I said shut up_!" he exploded, grabbing me by the collar. He pulled me to my feet and slammed me against the adjacent wall so hard I thought he was going to break my neck.

"_You don't know a goddamn thing about me or my family_!" he roared. "I love my son! I did it for them! Everything I've ever _done_ was for them!" Laughing almost to the point of hysteria, he pulled me unbearably close to the white-hot flames that danced upon his fingers.

"How about I give you some kick-ass new scars to match these? Hmm? What do you think?" he murmured softly in my ear, eyeing my left cheek.

My legs nearly gave way at the threat, but I managed to stay upright. "I'm not afraid of you."

The lie seemed to sober him up. The flames in his hand flickered dubiously, then went out. He looked into my eyes as if satisfied about something.

"Oh that was good, little girl. Very good."

I had no idea what he was talking about. But self preservation kicked in this time around: I kept my mouth shut.

"When my son visited me, he'd talk about you. I hear how he talks about you," he said thoughtfully. "Says you're good to him, that you…_encourage_ him." Barron glanced down at me with a wan smile. "That's pretty much the only thing keeping you alive right now."

With that, he threw me violently to the ground. A horrible stab of pain struck my right shoulder and I cried out.

Barron looked down at me with a passive critical eye, like one observing a work of art.

"So you're not afraid of me, huh?" Barron's sudden easygoing grin was so starkly reminiscent of Warren's it shocked me. He leaned forward and pressed his foot against my hurt shoulder, forcing an agonized scream out of me. "Let's see if I can change your mind."

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I opened my eyes. I was lying outside in the dirt, not too far away from the collapsed building. After a moment or two I sat up, hoping against hope that night's horrors were all just a dream. But the terrible pain that stabbed through my right shoulder proved otherwise. It all came back to me: Barron Battle. Thomas Brenner. And a weapon.

I had to find the mayor.

It was nearly two in the morning, so Brenner would not be in his office. But everyone in Maxville knew where the mayor lived- a moderately sized mansion in Gramer, one of the richest neighborhoods in town. But there were no imposing gates that caged the rest of the houses here.

On the way there I tried to call Warren. It rang several times before it went to voice mail.

"Warren..." I hesitated. What kind of message I could possibly leave him? _Hey, just thought you should know your father's not dead after all and is out for blood once again. Call me._

I hung up, feeling hopeless. I couldn't tell Warren, not this way. But I had a feeling I would need backup before the night was over. I dialed another number.

"Hello?"

"Evie, it's me. I need you to meet me at the mayor's house as soon as you can."

"Anna? What's wrong? You sound weird."

The horrible memory of Barron Battle dutifully wrenching screams out of me flashed into my mind. I shuddered heavily.

"Just hurry," I told her.

About a half hour later, the taxi pulled up at the corner of Brenner's street. Evie was already there, looking tired but anxious. She waited until the driver pulled away before turning to me.

"What's going on?"

"Barron Battle. He's alive."

My bluntness momentarily stopped her in her tracks. "_What_?"

I told her the story as briefly as I could before we reached Brenner's front door. Evie listened without a word, paling steadily until I thought she was going to faint by the time I rang the bell.

"What do we do?" she whispered.

Before I could answer, the door was opened and my thoughts were halted.

Samantha Peace stood in the doorway, looking at us in barely concealed surprise. "What are you two doing here?"

For a moment I didn't know what to say. Then I blurted out, "I need to see Mr. Brenner."

Samantha was unmoved. "He can't take visitors right now. It's late, and-"

"I wouldn't be here if it wasn't important. Please."

Samantha didn't answer. She gave me a once-over, took in my partially burnt and dirt stained clothes and looked at me sharply.

"What happened to you?" she asked, her voice strangely breathless.

Samantha was one of the few people who knew Barron best. I wondered if she could just... tell. But I held myself back.

"I really need to see Mr. Brenner," I repeated.

She continued to take in my disheveled appearance, but stepped aside. "Come in."

We followed her into the house and down the hall. Now I was more distressed than ever. It was bad enough having to explain to Thomas Brenner about Barron, but now with Samantha here things were going to be a hundred times worse.

She turned into a room. Brenner was sitting in a large chair. He was wearing a thick plaid robe and cotton slippers, far from the reserved professional look he usually harbored. He was staring at a door at the far end of the room with a vaguely nervous look. His expression flickered in surprise when he saw us, before settling into an unwelcoming regard.

"Samantha, what is this?" Before she could answer he added, "I thought I'd made it clear the last time we spoke that I have nothing more to say to you."

"I know. But this is an emergency."

"Well I'm sorry, but I'm already dealing with an emergency of my own. So if you will excuse us-"

"Thomas, give her a chance," Samantha interjected. She was still watching me with a look that bordered on anxiety. "Go on."

All eyes were on me then. My throat went dry, but I forced myself to speak. "Mr. Brenner I'm sorry, but... Mr. Horton's dead."

Samantha gasped softly and threw a look at Brenner. My words had a profound effect on the mayor. He shot to his feet, his eyes wide.

"I don't believe you," he said at last, but it was obvious that he did.

"I saw it happen."

"How?" he asked weakly.

I braced myself before I spoke. "Barron Battle."

The silence that followed was almost suffocating. "That's impossible. Barron's dead." It was Samantha who had said it. Her voice was level, her expression a mask of deliberate blankness.

"It was him. He attacked me."

Brenner didn't answer. He turned back to the door he'd been staring at, and now there was no question: he looked truly frightened.

"Are you sure? Are you absolutely sure?"

"You think she'd run over here in the middle of the night if she wasn't?" Evie said impatiently.

Brenner looked at her as if noticing her for the first time. "Who are you?"

Evie made an exasperated noise. "I'm Evelyn. Anna's Hero Support?"

"Oh. Yes of course, Miss Domagas," he said distractedly before turning to Samantha. "We have to move fast."

"Wait a second," Samantha said. She gave me a critical look. "Something's not right about this. If Barron is alive and he attacked you... how did you survive? He must have known that you'd-" She cut herself off and her face went ashen. Without warning she dashed towards the door at the end of the room- the same door Brenner had been staring at earlier.

But before she could take two steps, a loud explosion rocked the room. The force of the blast threw me against a wall. I hit my head hard. Smoke and flashing lights served to further disorient me. In the midst of the chaos I thought I heard a door slam shut. But before I could fully register the sound, someone gripped me by the throat and pinned me to the floor.

The sharply renewed pain in my shoulder temporarily immobilized me. But not for long. With my good arm I threw a light beam at my unseen attacker, but all I heard was a woman's laughter.

"You fight and I'll crush your throat." Ignoring the threat, I powered up and attacked again. I was rewarded by a swift but excruciating punch in the side and being painfully yanked by the hair to the point where every muscle in my neck was in agony.

"You want to try that again?"

"_Stand down, all of you_!" Brenner shouted urgently.

It all stopped: the lights were gone, the smoke had cleared. I looked up from where I lay and noticed several things immediately. Thomas Brenner was lying on the floor, his hands raised in surrender. Samantha was standing calm but alert, flanked by a man and a woman I didn't recognize as Barron stepped through the gaping hole in the wall. Samantha stared at Barron as if he was the only person in the room, her eyes never shifting from his. But there was one thing that filled me with even more dread than coming face to face with Barron again.

Evie had disappeared.

"Hello Sam," Barron said and for once his voice held none of its usual smugness. "So, _this_ is who you're working for now?"

"You're not Barron," she said quietly, as if trying to convince herself.

"Now, now, don't be mean. We both know that's not true."

Her lower lip trembled, but her expression remained curiously vacant. "Who did I bury?"

"An unlucky shapeshifter. Sorry."

"And you killed Marion."

Barron smiled in amusement. "To be fair, he killed me first."

For a moment neither of them spoke. Then Samantha lunged.

Barron was ready for her it seemed. He threw a fireball directly at Samantha's chest. It struck her- but only for a moment. Blue sparks erupted from her, engulfing the fireball completely. The flames vanished, leaving the exposed skin beneath the burnt clothing unharmed. Recovering, she dodged his next attack and delivered a heavy punch to his jaw that sent him reeling.

For the next several seconds they were locked in fierce combat, matching each other blow for violent blow. Neither of them hesitated; each attack was a calculated intent to kill. The whole scene was unsettling, mainly because I heard the way he'd said her name and how she'd responded. It was disturbingly obvious to anyone witnessing: they still loved each other.

Then suddenly as if by some unspoken signal they stopped, eyeing each other warily.

"You know that weapon can't be allowed to exist," Barron said after a moment of icy silence. "It'll be end of all of us."

"You always were big on the dramatic," Samantha answered.

"You can't trust him," Barron insisted. "Sam... please."

"You're wasting your time Barron," Brenner said, but his voice trembled. "Killing me's not going to stop the reform."

Barron hardly glanced at him. "Don't flatter yourself Tom. I'll settle for just killing your dream." With those words he looked at Samantha with a strange kind of resignation. "And in case I wasn't clear before, I'm not leaving without that weapon."

"Then you're not leaving," she said brusquely.

"Oh, I think he is," said a vaguely familiar woman who suddenly appeared behind her. Samantha spun around, but it was too late. A pulse of red energy burst out of the woman's body and hit Samantha who dropped to the ground, lifeless.

"Alina! What are you _doing_?" Brenner cried out in horror. The name instantly triggered my memory. Alina Posiet, the woman who had introduced Brenner at the Crystal Hall event. But why was she here?

Barron smiled at her appreciatively. "Where's the weapon?"

Alina glanced at the door. "In there."

"Don't do this," Thomas begged. But he was ignored as they walked past him. Alina's hand was on the doorknob when Thomas burst out, "For god's sake, she's all I have!"

Barron paused and narrowed his eyes at him. "And they call me the psychopath," he murmured.

It was then that the horrible realization hit me. The weapon. It wasn't a thing at all. It was a person.

Alina opened the door at last. Barron took a step past her and peered inside. We all did. But I doubt any of us were prepared for what we saw.

It was a bedroom, all pink and ruffles- clearly intended for a little girl. And sitting in the middle of the bed, was Evie.

She looked petrified but managed to keep her voice level. "Somehow, I don't think you're looking for me."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Barron immediately rounded on Alina. "Explain," he said, in a voice that promised death or something worse if he didn't get the answer he wanted to hear.

Alina looked so bewildered that for a split second I almost felt sorry for her. "I- I don't..." she stammered, before finally collecting herself. "It's a girl."

"I gathered that."

"But not _her_."

Barron glowered at the woman silently, then turned his wrath upon Evie.

"Where is she?"

"Long gone," Evie said. It was a mistake. In two great strides he was right before her, yanking her to her feet.

"_Leave her alone_!" I cried out as he put her into a somewhat half-hearted but no less dangerous choke-hold.

"I'll ask you again," he said with deceptive calm.

"She's been teleported out of the city. You're too late," she said and gasped out as his hold visibly tightened.

She was lying, of course. She had to be. But Evie was remarkably convincing; even Brenner looked somewhat hopeful.

"Bring her back," Barron ordered.

"Even if I could, I wouldn't."

"Maybe I can convince you. Or maybe... you're just a liar," he said. His fist suddenly enveloped in flames that were far too close to Evie's face.

I didn't know what to do. I certainly couldn't take them all down. And even if I could, there was no way I was going to risk my friend.

"She's not _here_," Evie said determinedly through clenched teeth, even as she tried to turn her face away from the flames.

They clearly weren't the words that Barron wanted to hear, but he kept himself composed. "This girl's going to be a target for the rest of her life. Don't you think it'd be better to save her from all that?" When that didn't work he said, "Do you want to get out of this alive? Give me the kid and I'll walk away right now."

For a breathless moment there wasn't a sound to be heard. Helplessly, I watched my friend being torn between a horrible choice: a child's life... or ours.

Then Evie spoke in a voice I'd never heard her use before. "You're the liar," she said. "You're not going to let us go. How could you?"

She looked right at me as she said this. At first I didn't understand why, but then her eyes flickered almost imperceptibly to her left.

And suddenly... I knew what she was about to do.

"Evie-!" It was all I could get out before a sudden clenching grip around my neck made it nearly impossible to breathe, let alone speak.

"Do you really think you have a choice here?"

"Do _you_? You're not going to get her. You've lost."

Barron's features clouded over. "Have you any idea who I am? How many people have gotten in my way? They're corpses now. Who the hell are you?"

Evie stared at me with a strange sadness in her eyes. Then she smiled.

"Me? I'm amazing."

And everything burst into a haze of red.

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Evie managed to scream out "Run!" before she dissolved into wheezing gasps and coughs. Barron Battle let out a litany of curses and for a moment fire seemed to be everywhere and everything.

But I wasn't going to let that stop me. Wrenching out of my distracted attacker's grip, I reached out to grab Evie. Suddenly my arms were filled with a small child, making the pain in my shoulder almost unbearable.

I wanted to ignore Evie's command, to pull her out of the chaos and drag her to safety. But my training overcame my own selfish desires and I took the child and ran, past the villains who tried to stop me, past Barron whose flames missed us by mere inches. I left them all behind: Barron and his villains, Brenner, Samantha, and Evie-

_She's right behind me_, I told myself. _She's all right_.

But I didn't hear her and I didn't see her.

The red dust engulfed everything as I burst through the front doors. It obscured everything even as I stumbled out into the street. It was because of this that a patrol car seemed to have come out of nowhere. It blindsided me and I was knocked sideways, the girl torn from my arms.

It all went dark...

...but not for long.

When I came to, a paramedic was trying to put a neck brace on me. A quick glance told me we were in an ambulance and the doors leading out were about to close.

"No," I said frantically, pushing him away.

"Just take it easy," one of them said as they tried to make me lie back down.

"Where is she- where's Evie?"

"Miss, you have to relax-"

"Let go of me!" I screamed in a panic, when they tried to restrain me.

"Get a sedative, quickly!"

That set me off. I threw a punch, not caring where it landed and kicked out as fiercely as I could. When that didn't work I lost it completely. Forgetting the Hero code of secrecy, I chucked a light beam at the one with the needle. I knocked it out of his hands and scrambled out of there before they could recover from the shock.

I stumbled back out into the street. The flashing police lights and loud sirens made me dizzy, but my steps were sure enough. I had to find Evie and once I did, she was so going to get it.

I was suddenly grabbed by an officer who caught me just as I was about to cross the yellow police tape.

"Miss, you can't go in there!"

"But my friend's in there," I said frantically. "I have to find her."

He blinked in surprise, but kept professional. "Okay, if you can tell me who she is, I can try to help."

"Her name's Evelyn," I said and described her as best I could, even as a heavy fog began to fill my head. "Please, I have to find her. She's still in there, and I- I need to..."

I trailed off at the expression that came into the officer's face. I stared at him for a long time. I didn't want to say it; I thought that if I didn't say it, it wouldn't be real.

But it was. And I did.

"She's dead, isn't she?" I heard myself say.

The officer lowered his head. "I'm very sorry," he said quietly.

I just stood there, taking it all in. In retrospect, a part of me still wanted to deny what I heard. I couldn't.

I passed out.


	16. On Death and Dying

Many thanks to **arnold the female purple pygmy puff **for her beta work!

Another long time since I updated! *sigh* Believe it or not though, this story eats up a significant part of my life. So make my day- please leave a review. ;)

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sky High, or any of its canon characters.**

**Chapter Sixteen- On Death and Dying.**

_"Anna, this is Robert Fredericks. You've missed two consecutive shifts this week, and you haven't called in. If I don't see you today, I'm going to have to let you go."_

_..._

_"Sweetheart, it's Mom. Your father and I haven't heard from you for a few days so we're just checking in. Give us a call, okay?"_

_..._

_"Annie... _please_ call us. We're worried."_

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"I remember your first day of Sky High. You were so scared. Almost threw up on the bus."

"Please... not now."

Paul sighed. "You've been on your own for almost a week now. Don't you think it's time to come back to the world of the living?" He shrugged. "Or you know. Whatever."

I shot up from where I was laying on my bed and glared at him. "Are you kidding me? Why are you here Paul?"

"I get that you're upset," he said, ignoring my question. "But you can't hide in here forever."

"I don't intend to."

Paul saw my expression. His brow furrowed. "Anna? What are you going to do?"

"Everything I possibly can."

My cousin said nothing for a long time, just stared at me as if he was leisurely reading my thoughts. A familiar wave of pain settled in my head. But I was almost used to it by now.

"Sometimes when things get too quiet, I go to my grave to think," he commented after a while.

"About what?" I asked reluctantly.

"About the night I died."

I flinched reflexively at the last word. Paul didn't seem to notice.

"I keep wondering why I did it. Why I threw my life away. The reason seems so stupid now. Revenge. What is it anyway? Why did I even care?"

"This has nothing to do with revenge," I said heatedly. "You know what that man's done. And he'll continue to do it unless he's stopped."

"I don't think that was my reason for wanting him dead," Paul said thoughtfully. He looked so confused, as if he was trying to remember something that had happened a million years ago. "It was... pride. What he did to Uncle Charles. It wasn't tragic to me- it was _embarrassing_. That's what I thought anyway. Getting even was all that mattered. In my mind, killing him would make everything okay somehow." He paused and suddenly looked at me with a clear realization. "You didn't kill me, Anna. I was already dead by then."

My breath hitched at the frightening familiarity of his words. With an inexplicable fear I watched him through the shadows of my room and he returned my stare evenly.

"Don't destroy yourself like I did. Barron Battle deserves death. But not by you. Find him if you can. Bring him in- alive."

"I don't think I can do that. Not on my own." I clutched myself tightly, suddenly scared. "Help me. Please."

My cousin looked troubled. "I can't."

"Why not? Paul, I need you. I'm afraid of what I'll do on my own. I- I don't trust myself."

Paul slowly lowered his gaze. "Neither do I. Anna, I don't care anymore."

"What? What are you talking about?" I asked him, confused.

Paul didn't answer. He stood up and walked past me, pausing to glance at the brown folder that lay in the corner. In all the madness of the past couple of months, I'd forgotten all about it.

"You really should take a look at my new pictures sometime," he said as he climbed through the open window and into the night.

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"Today we gather to celebrate the life of a brilliant young woman, who was taken from us far too soon."

Evelyn Domagas had been loved by so many people. Countless friends and family members went up to the pulpit to talk about her- how kind she was, how silly, how selfless, how wonderful. When Evan came up, his eyes were red and empty.

I remembered the last time I'd seen him; he'd tried to kill me. But Warren was there. He restrained Evan, pinning him to the ground until security arrived. It didn't stop him from screaming at me:

_"You were supposed to protect her! Where were you? Where the hell _were_ you?"_

Now here he was, his dull gaze sweeping the congregation and eventually resting upon me. But there was no anger in his eyes now. They just looked... defeated.

"Evelyn... Evie... was the best sister in the world. She always looked out for me, and.." He stopped, visibly trying to compose himself. After a few moments, he managed a half-whispered, "I'll miss her," before stepping down into the arms of his mother. She'd been crying silently throughout the service, her face twisted with a pain I couldn't bear to see.

But I didn't shed a tear. I hadn't cried once since Evie died. I knew there was something wrong about that, but I didn't want to think too much about it.

We were at the cemetery now. They were lowering the coffin into the ground. People tossed yellow roses in after it. They were Evie's favorite flowers; I never knew until today.

I let my rose fall among countless others, closing my eyes at the finality of it. Olivia Domagas was inconsolable now- she kept crying Evie's name, sobbing out words in a language I didn't recognize.

There was more singing, a reading, and then it was over. Slowly, the crowd of people began to disperse.

It was then that I saw them: Kylie and Jonah. They were both dressed in impeccable black attire. Kylie caught my eye and I cursed softly, looking away. But it was too late; they were both making their way over.

A strange flash of anger burned through me at the sight of the glittering engagement ring on Kylie's finger as she approached me. As ridiculous as it was, I couldn't help but see it as a slap in the face of Evie's memory. But for once Kylie wasn't sneering at me.

"Hey," Kylie said somberly and rather awkwardly.

I just stared at her.

"We uh, heard about what happened. I know we've had our differences, but...Evelyn didn't deserve what happened to her. We just want to pay our respects."

Still, I said nothing. At Sky High Kylie had tormented me every chance she got. But that hardly mattered now. All I could think of was the look in Evie's eyes when Kylie had said those terrible things to her.

Kylie sighed. "Look, I'm not trying to start anything here."

"Then _don't_."

I turned around. Warren was standing behind me, looking exactly how I felt. Kylie bristled, but Jonah placed a hand on her arm. He made no other attempt at communication- he didn't have to. Without a word, Kylie walked away. Jonah gave me an apologetic look, then followed her.

"You okay?" Warren asked when they'd gone.

"No," I told him truthfully, staring at the damp grass.

"Right, stupid question."

I shrugged dismissively. "I didn't see you at the church."

"I was there. I wasn't sure if you wanted to see me though."

I knew what he meant by that. "Sorry. I got your messages. Guess I fell off the radar for a while."

He nodded, watching Evan walking towards the gates with his mother. "If you're heading home, I could give you a lift. I mean, if you want."

I looked up at him properly. His expression curiously mirrored Evan's- tired, despondent. For some reason, it made me relax a little: he didn't know how to deal with this either.

Neither of us said much on the drive. I didn't know what to say. I'd avoided Warren (and everyone else) for well over a week now. I didn't even go to work. I was pretty sure I was now unemployed on top of everything else. But I didn't care. There was only one thing on my mind.

I didn't know how Barron Battle managed to slip past the dozens of police officers and firefighters who'd surrounded the Brenner residence. But he did, leaving Samantha unconscious and Brenner injured, but both alive.

I wished that Evie had been so lucky.

Barron's accomplices were quickly apprehended, but none of them were talking. It seemed they were more afraid of him than anything the justice system could threaten them with.

"Anna?"

I looked up. I was now was sitting beside Warren on my couch with only a vague memory of how I got there.

"Sorry, what?"

"I was saying..." He sighed. "How's your arm?"

Somehow I knew that wasn't what he'd said before. Nervously, I fidgeted with my sling. "It barely hurts now," I lied, and wondered why.

We let the seconds tick by, perhaps hoping the old adage about time healing all wounds would turn out to be true. It wasn't.

"I called you that night." I said after a small eternity.

"I know."

"I- I should have told you- left a message, or something-"

"Anna, don't do this."

"You don't get it," I insisted. "She was _my_ responsibility. I was supposed to protect her."

Warren didn't respond. Through the closed window came the sounds of the world continuing on, almost obscenely oblivious to the fact that there was one less good person in the world.

I'd covered up the telltale signs of my injuries as best I could for the funeral. But the bruises on my jaw were still starkly visible. Warren's hand ghosted over the worst of them, before settling against my neck. His touch was warm, reassuring- the first sense of comfort I'd had in days- and I was painfully reminded of how much I'd missed him.

But I made myself pull away. I couldn't do this anymore. Whatever I felt for him, whatever I'd hoped for, it was far too late.

Warren gazed unseeingly at the floor, a wounded quality in his eyes. "I should go," he said quietly.

"I think so." The words made me ache.

He got up and left without another word. As soon as the door closed, I buried my face in my hands, trying to catch my breath. Though he never said it, I knew he'd do everything in his power to find his father. But I also knew it wasn't going to happen.

Because I was going to find him first.

...

Brenner opened the door to his office and started when he saw me sitting there. I half expected him to tell me to get out, but he didn't. He entered the room and closed the door behind him.

"I've been expecting you."

"Have you?"

He took a seat and gave me a sympathetic look. "I want to thank you for...your efforts. As for your friend, she died a Hero. I'll never forget that."

"Do you know why I'm here?" I asked quietly.

"I can guess. Which is why it pains me to say that I can't tell you anything on the subject. It's-"

"Classified?" I finished. "My friend sacrificed her _life_, and you're going to sit there and tell me I'm not allowed to know why?"

"You can't forget who's really to blame for this."

"I know whose fault this is," I said sharply. "And I'd think the least you could do is tell me what's going on so I can have some idea-"

"Don't you think I'm doing all I can to find him?" he retorted defensively. "I've issued a million dollar reward for his capture- from my own pocket."

A bitter laugh burst out of me. "And that's supposed to make me feel better? You don't care about the damage he's done. You only want him found because he's after your niece."

Brenner flinched as if I'd slapped him. "We are not discussing that."

"Fine. Then I'll discuss it with the press. How you're using a little girl- your own blood no less- to neutralize dangerous super-villains. I mean that's what you're going to do, isn't it?"

"I'm sorry Miss Arrian, I truly am. But no one's going to believe you."

I stared at him, stunned. Slowly, I stood up. "Someone will. Starting from the local college newsletter up, I'll work through every paper and radio station, every tabloid, every conspiracy theorist group I can find and so help me _god_ Brenner, I'll tell them everything I know!"

Brenner flushed crimson, obviously making an effect to contain his temper. "You're bluffing. There's no way you'll risk your Hero career for this."

"No? I want you to take a good long look at my face. This is just one of the sacrifices I made for that monster. I lost my cousin; I nearly lost my father. Now he's taken one of my best friends. Do you _really_ think there's anything I wouldn't do to find him?"

Thomas Brenner stared at me- at my scars, at my expression- all without a word.

"Fine. Have it your way," I snapped, and walked towards the door.

"Miss Arrian, wait!"

I turned around. Brenner ran a hand over his face. He looked almost sick.

"What do you want to know?"

I returned to his desk, but didn't sit down. "Where's the girl?"

"With Samantha." He must have seen the question in my eyes because he added, "She's been taking care of my niece for the past six months. Her parents- my sister and her husband- were killed in Russia about a year ago. Apparently word got out about a little girl with a certain ability and no one liked the idea of it."

"Of course they wouldn't. But you didn't care. You turned her into... into what she is, anyway."

"I didn't turn her into anything. She's always had the potential, even at birth. We ran the blood tests and where was no question about it. All I did was help her develop it, strengthen it. How is that any different from your training?"

"Because I wasn't being exploited!"

"And neither is she," Brenner said in a low tone. "My niece has had the best care, the best training-"

"And the best super-villains on her trail," I finished. "How could you risk her life like that? I can't believe Samantha would even sign on for this."

"Believe me, she didn't want to. But she knew this project was going to happen with or without her approval. When I offered her the chance to work alongside me on this project, she didn't have much of a choice. She believed it was the only way to protect a defenseless little girl."

"From you?" I asked sardonically.

"From Barron Battle and others like him," Brenner retorted. "You might think I'm the monster in this story, Miss Arrian. But you have no idea of the choices I've had to make. The government was pressing me to begin the Reform Project immediately; the President himself was-"

"For god's sake, she's your _niece_, not some experiment!" I shouted, suddenly losing it. "She's practically your own child. How could you even think of using her like this?"

Brenner didn't respond at first. He looked out of the window, at the Maxville City skyline. "I love my niece," he said softly. "She's the only family I have left. But I have to think of the lives that have been lost in this war and those still at stake."

His words didn't move me. "So what happens now?"

"The Reform Project will be postponed until Barron Battle is found. But it will still be carried out as planned. The future of the world depends upon it." He watched me with a softened expression.

"I can't expect you to understand. You're too young. You don't know what it was like in the old days. When the first of us started donning costumes and saving the world, some of us truly wanted to make a difference. But there were others who just wouldn't let that happen. Like that traitor, Alina Posiet. They have to be stopped... by any means necessary."

I stepped away, feeling as if I was truly seeing him for the first time. "You know, it's frightening. How much you sound like him."

He looked at me in confusion. "Like who?"

"Barron Battle," I told him, and left his office.

...

My mother's pregnancy was definitely more evident now. Her pale green smock did little to conceal her slightly protruding belly. With the extra weight and her glowing skin she looked healthier than ever, almost younger.

We were in my old room. Dad had gone out to the hardware store for more paint and to pick up some pre-ordered wallpaper among other things. I thought it was finally time to visit them. I didn't know when I would get the chance again.

"We're thinking of putting the crib over here. Since the room faces east and all. Your father got your old crib out of the attic. Eighteen years old, but it's still as good as new..." Her smile faded and she sighed. "Sorry. I'm rambling."

"You're not," I assured her, looking around for her benefit. "The place is really coming together."

She gave me that anxious once over I'd grown accustomed to over the the years. "How are you holding up?"

"I'm fine, really."

"It's just that we haven't seen you since... well, since."

I nodded, not looking at her. "I just needed some time to myself."

"That's what your father said."she hesitated before adding, "Evelyn was a lovely girl. I'm going to miss having her around."

"Me too," I murmured. Clearing my throat I said, "So, what color paint is Dad getting? Blue or pink?"

"Yellow," Mom answered smugly. "Nice try though."

"Come on, Mom. I know you and Dad must know by now."

"We told the doctor not to tell us. We want to be surprised, just like we were with you."

"Was I what you wanted?" I found myself asking.

"You were _everything_ we wanted. You still are."

Her words made me strangely ashamed._ No, I'm not,_ I thought to myself. _You wanted a normal kid. And you deserved one._

"I have to go. There's something I need to take care of."

"Is everything all right?"

I saw her concern, her constant worry. Trying to smile, I stepped forward and hugged her.

"I'm so sorry Mom," I told her, my voice cracking slightly.

"For what, sweetheart? Anna?"

I didn't answer. I just held on to her... while I still could.

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Evie's death had affected me in a way I didn't expect. Everything familiar felt strange, or stripped away, leaving a rage so devastating it kept me awake for days .

I didn't sleep. I barely ate. In the following weeks my thoughts were centered upon just one thing: finding Barron Battle.

Most nights I took to the streets, asking questions from those who'd known him at one point or another. I knew there had to be someone who knew something about Barron's whereabouts, and I was determined to find them. Unfortunately I wasn't the only one who had the idea.

Outside a rundown bar I was engaged in conversation with a group of reputedly nefarious superbeings, concerning rumors of Barron Battle's latest activity. Suddenly they dispersed without warning. A moment later, I saw why.

Warren was approaching. I turned away, hoping he hadn't recognized me in the relative darkness. But I wasn't that lucky.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded, stepping in front of me.

"Patrolling," I said after a pause.

He clearly didn't believe me. "Since when do you patrol East Decatur?"

"Last time I checked, my patrols didn't have boundaries," I said defensively. "So don't try and tell me how to do my job."

"Then don't treat me like an idiot," Warren said sharply, keeping his voice low. "I know what you're doing."

I was caught, there was no way around it. But I wasn't backing down. "What I'm doing is my job."

I turned to leave, but Warren grabbed my arm.

"Anna." The word came out as a soft breath, a reminder that names in this place could prove fatal. "You don't want to do this."

I looked up at him, belatedly realizing my error in doing so. I couldn't stop now; not for Warren's happiness... or even my own.

"Let go." It was all I could trust myself to say.

Reluctantly, he obliged. He took a step back, an action that gave me an inexplicable sense of loss. I left him, suddenly feeling colder than I'd ever been.

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For a long time, my searching was met with silence and dead ends. I grew restless, impatient, infuriated. The thought of Evie, who died gasping and alone while Barron continued on (wherever he was) was more than I could bear. I almost despaired, thinking that Barron had truly vanished and I would never see him again.

And then, in a dark and filthy alleyway, came a few whispered words from a man called Nesmith. He left me soon after, a few dollars richer and considerably more apprehensive of the world.

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I crept around the airplane hangar as silently as possible. So far I hadn't seen anyone, but I didn't let that daunt me. After what felt like years of searching, I just _knew_.

At the back of the hangar were two large sliding doors. They were shut. I reached for them, then heard a click, followed by the press of cold steel against the back of my head.

"Don't you move," ordered an unfamiliar male voice.

I did as he asked. My heart should have been racing; any normal person's would have. But even moments from death, I felt an unsettling sense of calm. "Who are you?" I asked.

"I don't think you're in any position to be asking questions, sweetheart," he said in a sneering voice. "How about you try telling me who _you_ are?"

I didn't answer. He pressed the gun harder against my head.

"Start talking!" he ordered.

When I spoke to him, my voice sounded strange, almost helpful. "You're making a mistake, you know."

"Oh yeah? And what's that?"

My hands were now at my sides. I unclenched my fists... and turned my palms towards him.

"I'm not afraid of you."

I could see the brief flash of light against the metal doors. There was a loud shot, followed by heavy thump of a body hitting the ground. I spun around and grabbed the man's wrist before he could fire off another round. I wrenched it, forcing him to drop the gun. Before he could retaliate, I grabbed the weapon and smashed it into his face with every ounce of fury I had. He fell back, his nose crushed and bleeding, staring unseeingly at the clear night sky.

I stared down at him. He didn't appear to be a superbeing at all, just a man with a gun. I didn't know what that meant. If Nesmith was right, where were the super villains? What if this was another dead end... or a trap?

I looked at the gun in my hand. I realized that I didn't care. I pulled open the doors. My eyes eventually became adjusted to the dim light within. When they did, I stopped dead in my tracks.

In the middle of the open space was a metal barrel filled with fire. There was a mattress, a table, and a small refrigerator surrounding it. But all these were secondary what I was staring at. Barron Battle sat nearby in an old overstuffed armchair, casually reading a newspaper.

A jolt of emotion ran through me. Seeing him here at last, I didn't know how to feel.

Barron finally looked up without the slightest hint of surprise. "Well hello. Heard you've been looking for me."

When I didn't respond he rose from his chair, tossing the paper onto it. "You made quite a noise out there. Hope you didn't kill poor George. Told his mother the security job was low risk. But where are my manners? Fifteen years in prison's no excuse for lack of courtesy. How about a drink?" He grinned. "I promise not to tell your folks."

"Where are the others?" I asked, ignoring him.

"Others? I'm afraid it's just you and me. And George of course. Figured the extras would attract unwanted attention. Guess I figured wrong."

He looked so smug, so... unrepentant. My long-seething anger flared to an almost unbearable level.

His smirk faded at my expression. "I know what you're thinking. You're wrong. It wasn't my fault. That girl killed herself, plain and simple."

Nothing he said would make any difference to me. I felt the weight in my right hand, and a decision was made. As if reading my thoughts, Barron glanced down. When he met my eyes again, he looked almost impressed.

"Well, well. Our little lady's growing up."

"Stop calling me that!" I yelled between clenched teeth. "You _know_ my name!"

He gazed at me, unmoved. "Since before you were born," he agreed. "Arrian. It used to mean something honorable once upon a time. Do you really think you're doing the right thing here? Or don't you care anymore?"

I didn't answer him. His old smile returned, now calmly thoughtful.

"So. The girl who saved my life now intends to take it. Funny how things turn out."

"Very," I said dryly. Then I raised the gun and shot him.


	17. Means to an End

Wow, the penultimate chapter already. This is a big one, so I hope you enjoy. Thanks for all the reviews, guys!

And thanks to **arnold the female purple pygmy puff **for her beta work!

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sky High, or any of its canon characters.**

**Chapter Seventeen- Means to an End**

Barron fell heavily to the ground, clutching his leg.

"You _shot_ me?" He sounded scandalized, as if I'd insulted him. "I've stared down lynch mobs, firing squads, legendary super beings on both sides of the coin- and this is how you decide to take me out? With a _gun_?"

I glared at him scornfully. "It's more than you deserve."

"You filthy little b-"

"I'd choose my last words carefully."

"Last words? Are you sure about that? Your hand's looking kind of shaky there."

I adjusted my aim, not taking my eyes off of him. "It's steady enough," I whispered, increasing my pressure against the trigger.

"_Anna_!"

I almost dropped the gun. Warren was standing in the doorway, just within my peripheral vision. I wanted to scream. What was he doing here? He was never supposed to see this!

"Glad you could join the party, Warren," Barron said sardonically.

"Dad, not now," Warren muttered tersely.

"Stay where you are Warren," I ordered. "I mean it!"

"Anna, just put it down."

"No, that's not going to happen," I said vehemently, then suppressed a sob. "How did you find me?"

"I saw you at that bar, realized what you were going to do." He exhaled softly. "I followed you."

"So. You figured out my evil plan."

"You're not going to kill him," Warren said. "That's not who you are."

"Maybe you don't know me as well you think you do."

"I'd like to think I know you pretty well."

"He killed Evie. He _killed_ her."

"I know, and I understand-"

"No, you don't! You can't. You'll forgive him and hope, and love him- because he's your dad. But he's never going to change, Warren. And he's never going to stop."

There was a silence. On the ground, Barron watched the exchange with the detached interest of someone watching a boring play. The gun grew heavier in my hand, but I kept it on him as if my life depended on it.

Then finally, Warren spoke. "You're right. I'll never see him the way the world does. No matter what he's done, he'll always be my father." His voice became rough. "But I know who he is. And I know the hurt he's caused, believe me. Anna... she was my friend too."

I remained silent. I'd known this of course. But the realization hadn't been made truly apparent to me until that moment. I wasn't the only one who'd lost her.

"You can't ask me to just _let_ him-"

"I'm not. I'm asking you to trust me." Warren took a step forward, and despite my better judgement, I didn't try to stop him. "I need you to lower that gun. Anna... don't do this to me."

The emotion in his voice was like a physical blow. And now my hand really _was_ shaking; the gun suddenly felt several pounds heavier. Reluctantly, I glanced at Warren. His expression was devastating. Beneath the anxiety and distress, was something open. Expectant.

He stepped forward, hand outstretched. "Give it to me."

I shook my head defiantly. But it was an empty gesture: all the fight in me was gone. In a half daze, I watched Warren carefully take the gun out of my hand, pulling me back at the same time.

"Well. That was anti-climactic," Barron said, absently wiping blood on his shirt. "So are you going to give me a hand or what?" he added to Warren.

Warren looked down at him, a strange impassive look in his eyes. "That depends. Are you going to give up quietly?"

For the first time, Barron's smug arrogance vanished.

"What did you say to me?"

"You heard."

"Have you any idea of what I've done for you? What that pissant Brenner wants to set loose in the world?"

"Whatever it is, can't be as dangerous as you."

Barron glared at him incredulously. "You'll know what they'll do to me if I go back."

Warren didn't answer. He stared down at him, unmoving.

Barron gaze traveled to mine. He gave me a long calculating look. Then he turned back to Warren. "So this is what it's come to? You, choosing this slut over me?" He watched Warren's face darken and sighed. "I'm sorry it's had to come to this."

It happened without warning. Warren threw me to the ground, covering me amidst a hail of flames that seemed to go on forever. When I could finally look up, Barron had heaved himself to his feet (despite his hurt leg), and positioned himself in front of the doors.

Warren was up in a flash, defensive and alert. "Stand down!"

But Barron ignored him, staring straight at me. "Oh little lady. You should have shot me in the face, or _something_."

"What the hell are you doing?" Warren demanded.

"You're not giving me much of a choice, son. Maybe you'll come to your senses once she's out of the picture!"

A burst of fire erupted out of his hands, which he hurled at us. But Warren threw a fireball of his own. They connected mid-flight, sending flames shooting out in every direction. I crouched, using my light energy to shield myself as best I could.

"Dad, stand _down_!" Warren yelled again.

"You think I'm just going to let you take me in? Let them destroy who I am?" Barron challenged as he rained hell upon us in his enraged attempt to reduce me to ashes.

But he staggered- his leg was failing him. Warren saw his opportunity and lunged. Barron reacted swiftly. He threw a swift punch that caught Warren off-guard, then chucked a fireball that hit him in the stomach.

A beam of light burst from my hand and slammed into Barron's chest before I was even aware of my retaliation. He was knocked off his feet, but that didn't stop him. He immediately powered up again, sending a ball of fire that I tried to avoid. But I wasn't quickly enough and it scorched my shoulder painfully. I fell to my knees, clutching my arm and gasping.

"I won't let them destroy me!" Barron thundered. Dodging Warren's right hook, Barron used his momentum against him and threw him to the ground. I instantly moved to retaliate again, but a glint of metal made me stop in my tracks.

"I'm sorry, son," Barron said, standing over him. "It's over."

"Yeah," Warren told him quietly. "It is." There was no desperation or pleading. It was a quiet declaration, a grounded fact.

A flicker of confusion flashed in Barron's eyes. Then his eyes traveled downward...to the neutralizer on his wrist.

He stared at it like some kind of alien thing, not seeming to notice Warren getting back to his feet. Then a soft surprised laugh escaped him. There was no humor in the sound.

Barron tossed a glance in my general direction, murderous mutiny in the very set of his shoulders.

"Get it out of your head," Warren said in a low, but dangerous voice.

Barron glared darkly at him for long moments. But he was right- it was over. Slowly and with an air of deliberate calm, he settled against an overturned chair, smoothing down his bloodstained shirt.

"You were going to be my deliverance." He chuckled sadly.

A pained, tragic look came into Warren's face. "Dad-"

"Don't you dare," he snapped, all traces of his bitter smirk now gone. He fixed Warren with the coldest glare I'd ever seen. "I'll never forgive you for this, Warren. Remember that."

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The night was over. And I was home.

I paced around the room, too wired to sleep. I was still trying to process the fact that I was here and not sitting in a jail somewhere.

No less than five armored trucks escorted Barron as his ambulance drove away. Police were everywhere; I was asked dozens of questions. It was a nightmare I couldn't wake up from- waiting for them realize what I had done and to haul me away in neutralizers. Aggravated assault at best, attempted murder at worst. I wondered how much that would get me. Ten years? Thirty? A lifetime?

"We found an unconscious man lying outside. Was he the one who shot Battle?"

"No," I said quietly.

"Do you know who it was?"

"It was me. I shot him."

The officer looked up from scribbling in his notepad. But I wasn't the one who'd said it. Warren was standing beside me, staring the officer straight in the eye.

"He attacked us, then tried to escape," Warren explained. "I didn't have a choice."

I shot him a look; Warren was lying through his teeth. But I couldn't bring myself to call him out on it. Whether it was from fear, or guilt (or both), I did nothing to stop him as he shielded me for the second time that evening.

The officer seemed satisfied by the story, at least for now. After a few more minutes he let me go, saying that he'd contact me if he needed anything further. Warren stayed behind to give a full statement.

The early morning sunlight filtered through my window. I looked around my small studio, truly seeing it for the first time in weeks. My things were all over the place. The dishes remained unwashed in the sink. The floor hadn't been swept in ages. I couldn't let Evie see this mess...

I sat down quickly, suddenly unable to keep my balance. It shouldn't have hit me like this, not after all this time. Through blurry eyes I saw all the spaces that should have been Evie laughing at nothing at all; Evie, telling me one of her obscure and sometimes ridiculous observations; Evie, just being a good friend.

But those spaces were empty now. And she would never fill them again.

My shoulders shook. The numbness that I'd relied on for weeks was suddenly gone, and I could feel everything. For the first time since Evie died... I buried my head in my arms, and wept.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It was all over the news: Barron Battle had been recaptured. He was taken to a holding facility outside of Maxville. With the MCF out of commission, the authorities were currently trying to figure out what to do with him. The former celebrations that occurred at the time of Barron's "death" resumed, though not quite as spirited as before. Some people called for an outright execution, others claimed it was all a conspiracy, that Battle had indeed died all those months ago and this new man was an outright impostor.

I tried not to think about it.

I grieved for days. Just when I thought I'd gotten it under control, I'd see or hear something that would serve as a reminder- and the tears would start all over again. It felt bigger than me somehow- the guilt and the grief, the loss of what I was and what I had, before any of this happened. I thought it would never end.

But one morning I opened my eyes. Daring to lift my head a fraction, I peered over my window sill. People were going about their day- driving their cars, walking down the street, taking their children to school. Living.

I watched them for a long time. I didn't feel ready to go outside, but I suspected that eventually I'd have to. The thought felt unfair, treacherous. But there was the truth of it. The world didn't stop for sadness, no matter how much I'd wanted it to.

I got out of bed, tentative and fragile on my feet. Strangely enough, I felt sadder in that moment than I'd ever been. But it was the sadness of acceptance, the melancholy of moving on.

I did not cry. With a heavy heart, I went into the kitchen and washed the dishes.

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"Nothing ever stays the same, I guess."

Paul was sitting at the window. I was standing at the other end of the room, in no mood to sit down myself.

"So you've finally seen my artwork," he added when I didn't respond.

"Oh, I saw it," I told him. I'd spend the rest of my life trying to _un_-see it.

He glanced down at the floor, where I'd dropped the pictures he'd drawn months ago. I'd stared at each one for several moments, trying to make sense of them. I couldn't.

"You know, I stopped going to my parents' house."

"Good," I said. "Because you shouldn't."

"I stopped going because I've forgotten where it is."

"What?"

Paul folded his arms, staring at the floor. "I used to miss Mom and Dad so much. But the last time I saw them, they were strangers to me. I didn't care about them at all." He looked up. "You're about the only thing that's familiar now. I guess that's why I keep coming back. To hang on."

My heart began to race as a thought came to me. "Are you dying?"

Paul didn't answer. He walked over and picked up the pictures from the floor, staring at them with a strange smile.

"I thought they were beautiful once. Drawing reminded me of being alive. For a while I could pretend." His gray eyes met mine. "Then I saw what they were. And what I was. I'm not dying, Anna. But I'm going to."

"But why?"

"Because I'm losing everything I ever was. And it's more than that. I mean you've felt it, haven't you? The sickness, the headaches. I'm all wrong, Anna. Soon there'll be darkness and the cold and that scares me. Death was never this _empty_. I'd rather just let go."

A part of me had suspected as much- that my cousin wouldn't be around forever. I didn't let myself think about it, too scared that I'd grieve for him all over again. But seeing him here watching me with a calm blankness one usually reserved for inanimate objects, I realized the terrible truth.

What stood before me was not my cousin... and hadn't been for a long time.

"I think it's great in a way," he said enthusiastically. "Less to worry about, you know?"

His assurance on the matter was unsettling. Seeing him so confident about death being the better choice prompted me to ask the question I'd harbored ever since he'd come back.

"Paul, what happens when you die?"

He looked away, troubled. "I'm sorry. I can't talk about that."

"Why not? You of all people should understand. I need to know that-" I stopped myself, realizing the near-error. I tried again. "I need to know that you're going to be okay."

At those words, he fixed me with that disturbing neutral expression for so long that I thought I was going to lose my mind. Then finally he spoke.

"I'm not allowed to tell you what happens when you die. But I can tell you that you don't have to worry about her anymore."

Stunned, I could only stare at him. There was something in the way he said it, a strange undertone that was unexpectedly comforting.

"Guess I should head back to my grave. Strange- it's the one place I know exactly how to find," Paul said thoughtfully. On the way out, he stopped and looked at me.

"I want to thank you," he said. "For being nice, despite me being dead and all." He grinned. "You know, I still remember you and me, and all our crazy plans. I remember how much I loved you."

I lowered my eyes, not knowing what to say. I wondered if things would be any different now. I knew they wouldn't. I'd never really stopped missing my cousin.

Paul opened the window. "I'll be seeing you, cuz," he murmured, almost to himself, before leaving me for the last time.

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I was gradually reconnecting with the world. I'd gotten a full-time job at a little rare-and-used book shop a few blocks away from my place. It wasn't exactly my dream job, but it certainly brought in more money and it was far better than throwing out rotten meat.

I visited my parents regularly. They'd heard about my involvement in Barron Battle's but didn't know the details, or the fact that I'd tried to kill him. I decided that they were better off not knowing. Barron had done enough to us as a family.

My mother was so... _round_ now. I couldn't stop putting my hands on her stomach, completely fascinated by her pregnancy. Once or twice, I thought I felt the baby move. It was pretty amazing.

And so my life was slowly coming back together. But there was one person missing from the picture.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Warren was just walking out of campus when I met him at the gates of Maxville University. When he saw me, he stopped dead in his tracks as if he couldn't quite believe I was there.

"Hi," I said nervously.

"Hey," he replied somberly.

We fell silent after that, just standing there in the middle of the sidewalk. All the things I'd rehearsed on the way there were forgotten; I tried not to panic.

"Well, nice talking," Warren said, then made to leave.

"No, please wait. Um... have you had lunch?" I forced a smile.

"Look, you don't have to-"

"I want to. Really."

He looked at me for a few seconds. Then he nodded. "Okay."

We ended up having lunch on a park bench. An impromptu soccer match was being held not too far away.

"I, uh... I never thanked you for what you did. I'd probably be in jail right now if wasn't for you."

"I doubt it. Honestly? I think the lieutenant was ready to give me a medal."

"Huh." I stared down at my sandwich. "Look, about what I did- there's no excuse, I was just..."

"Angry. Yeah, I know. But he's alive." He shrugged. "Besides, after murdering hundreds of people, I figure being shot in the leg was the least he had coming."

He seemed nonchalant enough. But I remembered the last thing his father had said before the police had come. It wasn't something anyone wanted to hear, especially from a parent.

"Have you checked up on him?"

"I think the police can handle it."

"That's not what I meant."

"I know." Warren didn't look at me. "Right now, I think I should stay away from him."

I nodded. We both fell silent for a while, watching teenagers who couldn't have been much younger than us kick a ball around the field.

"How's Evan been?" I asked as I watched them.

"He's gone. He and his mom moved back to the Philippines. I guess now that her husband and daughter's gone, Evan's all she has left."

"I'm sorry."

He shook his head. "Don't be. I think it's better I work on my own for a while."

"Yeah. Me too."

After lunch he drove me home. I wondered if it would be for the last time, if Warren would ever forgive me for what I'd done. It would probably be ages before things would be right with us again. Sighing, I looked out of the window. Vaguely familiar stores and buildings swept past. As I watched, a slow smile crept over my face.

He was taking the long way home.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Isn't it wonderful?"

"It's perfect, Mom."

"And all thanks to your father."

Dad looked modest. "Oh, it wasn't all me. The Feldman boys down the street did most of the grunt work."

"Still, you did an amazing job. Thank you," Mom said, and leaned over to kiss him.

The nursery was finished at last. It looked beautiful. Everything was done in white and pale yellow, even the wallpaper with the dancing teddy bears on them. There was a new carpet, new curtains, even new shelves with stuffed toys on them. But there was some older things as well. My former crib for instance and an oak rocking chair that I recognized from my grandmother's house. It was hard to believe that this place had once been my old room.

"Are you excited about the new baby?" Mom asked me later when we were all sitting on the back porch.

"Yeah, I guess I am." I was surprised to realize that I meant it. Now with the due date so close, I began to think about what it was going to be like, having a new sibling. Would I be a good role model? That was my biggest worry.

"You'll be a great sister," Dad said, as if he knew what I was thinking. "No doubts there."

"Absolutely," Mom said, taking my hand. "I don't think we could have asked for a better babysitter."

"Oh thanks Mom," I said, rolling my eyes. They both laughed.

We eventually fell into silence, musing over own thoughts.

"Mom, Dad?" I said after a while.

"Yes, sweetheart?"

"I have a favor to ask. It's a pretty big one. But I just have this feeling, and... it'd mean the world to me."

"What is it?" Dad asked.

I told them.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

I emptied out the remaining couple of boxes that remained since my move. They were the last remnants of a transition that I took far too long to make. I pulled out old books, receipts... and an old pamphlet.

I recognized the old advert for scar removal, remembering how it had given me a sense of apprehension when I'd first seen it. Now I just felt regret. It served as nothing else but a reminder of all the things I'd shied away from because I was too scared.

But not anymore. I remembered Evie, who'd carried her one big secret to her grave. I didn't want to make that mistake. I didn't want to be afraid of taking risks for the sake of my own happiness.

It was time to be brave.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"You've been kind of quiet today. Everything all right?" Warren asked over a magazine.

"Yeah, of course."

Months had passed. And life got better. Warren had returned to school at the start of the new semester and came to visit often. I was glad for the routine of it, the routine of him, something I'd been sure I would never have again.

"So, Mom asked me where I was going this morning," Warren said, as he flipped the glossy pages absently. "Told her I was coming to see you."

I paused in the midst of reading my newspaper. "You didn't."

Warren arched an eyebrow. "I did."

"What did she say?"

"Not what I expected. She told me pick up her dry cleaning on the way home."

"What?"

Warren smirked. "I think she was just relieved I finally admitted it."

I chuckled, watching him as he looked back down at his magazine. I suspected he knew I was staring, but I didn't care. I was just happy to be with him.

"Warren?"

"Mmm?"

"Do you remember the day we met?"

"Sure. We were in Mad Science. Paul was pointing me out to you. I was kind of wondering how long it would be before I had to incinerate you both."

I mused over that. "Did you ever think things would have turned out this way? With you and me, I mean."

"Not in a million years," he admitted. "But I'm glad it did."

My heart warmed to hear him say that. Swallowing my fear, I decided it was now or never.

I set down the paper. "Come here for a second. There's something I want to say."

"What's wrong?" he asked as he came to sit beside me. "Your hands are shaking."

Tersely, I clutched my hands together. "No, everything's fine." I closed my eyes briefly before continuing. "I just wanted to say that, well, we've been through a lot. Sometimes we'd get so mad at each other, we wouldn't talk for weeks. We've crossed lines we never thought we would, did things... But we always came back. Even after seeing the worst in each other, here we are. Here _you_ are, and I can't tell you how much-"

My nerve was failing. Everything I'd heard about how romantic moments like these were seemed ridiculous now. Love was no field of roses; it was hard, nauseatingly awkward and strangely disorienting.

Warren was staring at me with the most unfathomable expression. I wanted to disappear.

"Anna, what are you trying to say?"

I was suddenly terrified. "I- I don't know. I'm not exactly an expert at this."

But my eyes betrayed everything, I was sure of it. It was the only explanation for what happened next.

He touched my face, his fingertips brushing lightly against my scars. Instantly self-conscious, I tried to move away but he wouldn't let me.

"All this time, you'd think we'd learn to trust each other."

"I do trust you," I insisted.

Warren held my gaze. "Then don't hide from me."

I glanced at the floor, knowing what he meant. Then I looked up and faced him properly. I was going to do this, even if it killed me.

"I...you mean a lot to me. More than I've ever let on," I said, suppressing my instinctual embarrassment. Clearing my throat, I added lamely, "That's, um... pretty much what I wanted to say."

Admittedly, it wasn't the most eloquent thing I'd ever said. Something suspiciously like amusement flickered across Warren's features and for two seconds I wondered if I hadn't just made one of the biggest mistakes of my life.

"Well, Arrian," he said somberly after a while, "Guess it's better late than never."

"I know, I shouldn't have- wait, what?"

But my all questions vanished in an instant. Without a word, he leaned down... and kissed me.

It was simple, almost chaste at first. But that illusion quickly vanished as he grew bolder, pulling me closer into a warmth that was new, but not entirely unfamiliar.

Too soon it was over, and I was left breathless and slightly dazed.

"Oh," was all I could manage.

Warren smiled down at me, in that warm and bright way I'd grown to depend on. When he kissed me again there was no shyness, no fleeting fear that this moment might have been nothing but the remnants of a cruel dream. It was crushing, the weight of this newfound joy. I wrapped my arms around him and didn't let go for a long time.


	18. Little Arrian

**Well here we are, the end of the story. Quite sad, isn't it? But I've had an amazing time writing this, as well as reading your reviews. How about one more for the road? ;)  
**

**Arnold the female pygmy puff: I really couldn't have done this without you. You've helped me grow as a writer and become more comfortable with new themes I normally wouldn't have ventured into. Thank you. **

**And thanks to all my readers!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sky High, or any of its canon characters.**

**Chapter Eighteen- Little Arrian**

Happiness is not easily achieved. For the better part of three years I thought it was something only regular people got to have, that as Heroes it was just our duty to fight for it on their behalf. Warren proved me wrong.

~Two months later~

I stared and stared at my reflection. I couldn't take my eyes off my face. It had been four days since I'd gone to Dr. Yorley. Ten days since we'd had the consultation where I sat in his office, listening to him try to reassure me that the procedure would be quick and painless. But he misread my unease. I wasn't worried about the failure of the procedure. I was dreading its inevitable success.

My scars were gone. Well, not entirely, but they were barely noticeable now. It was strange to see myself like this. There was a new blankness to my features, but I looked just the way I had before- well, before. I still didn't know how I felt about it.

"So... what do you think?" I asked uncertainly, turning to Warren.

"I think you look amazing," he said simply.

"That's what you always say," I said with a nervous smile.

"Well yeah," he told me matter-of-factly. "Now get over here already."

A pleasant warmth stole into me at his words. Trying to suppress a grin (and not quite succeeding), I left the mirror and went over to him. Soon, I was curled up comfortably in his arms, leaning contentedly into the soft kiss he pressed against my temple.

Life had more or less returned to normal, with wonderful differences. We followed our simple routine- work, school, evening meals courtesy of Warren's ingenuity. Kisses were shared with an exhausted urgency before we inevitably fell asleep before my old television. I suffered with him over essays and deadlines, exams and projects, bickering over minute changes to everything. Yet through it all, he never let me forget I was one of the best things that ever happened to him.

And we still saved the day.

"I think that could've been better," Warren muttered, as he watched himself throw a devastating punch to an unlucky super villain on the news.

I raised my head from his shoulder to give him a look. "You threw a potential bomber through a plate glass window and saved hundreds of people. It don't think it gets much better than that."

Warren shrugged. "I could've set him on fire."

I stifled a laugh. "Well I'm glad you didn't. And Mayor Brenner was pretty grateful too. Who knows? There could be a key to the city in your future," I teased.

"Yeah, right," Warren said dryly. "Giving Barron Battle's son a key to the city. That'll be the day."

I rolled my eyes at his cynicism. But I leaned over and kissed his cheek, smiling at the mild flush that came into his face. "You know, crazier things have happened."

He gazed at me with a tenderness I grew to adore. "Arrian..." He stopped, his eyes never leaving mine. He didn't finish his thought. He didn't have to.

"Yeah," I told him, and placed my hand solidly in his. "Me too."

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It was two in the morning, and I was awakened by a phone call. Thirty-five minutes later, I was at the hospital.

When I emerged from the elevator I saw Dad standing in the corridor looking positively agitated.

"Where is she?" I asked.

"In the delivery room. They moved her in about ten minutes ago."

"Wait a minute, I thought you were going to be with her. You went to Lamaze and everything-"

Dad looked sheepish. "I talked to the doctor and we all thought it was best that I stay out here."

I gave him a look as something clicked. "You passed out, didn't you?"

Dad hung his head, clearly embarrassed.

"Oh, Dad-"

"I don't know what happened," he groaned. "I wasn't like this when you were born."

I took his hand sympathetically. "Mom will be fine."

Dad nodded. "I know she will."

My father could be the epitome of courage sometimes. I remembered this as he took a deep breath, turned around and walked back into that delivery room.

With my mother's pregnancy, we'd returned to something that echoed our former relationship. It was an unspoken rule that Warren not be mentioned if we were to keep familial harmony- the one sore spot in our otherwise peaceful existence. I wondered how my father would react if he knew that Warren and I were now together. I'd confided to Mom weeks ago and she was happy for me. But Dad was another story entirely. I couldn't just spring something like that on him: it was literally one of his worst fears. How could I get him to understand that the events of the last three years had all but relieved the grievances of the last twenty? In retrospect, there was little that could have been done in the face of near-death experiences, crippling fears and devastating fury that only served to ensure Warren and I clung to this life with everything we had. Neither of us saw until it was too late that what we were really clinging to was each other.

Dad could understand. He had to.

It seemed I was pacing forever. I was scared, excited, nervous, even a little frustrated. I remembered how long labor could take. Hours. Days, even. I doubted I could last that long. I kept thinking about the baby. I wasn't sure if I preferred a brother or a sister. Boys could be nightmares, but girls could be impossible. Even though I no longer lived in the house, I knew my parents would need all the help they could get- they weren't thirty-something anymore. I envisioned endless bickering and pestering, screaming demands for attention and personally feeling left out as my parents embraced their miraculous second chance. I wondered what the future held... and continued to wonder for the next three and a half hours.

Then I heard a baby wail. My heart almost stopped.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Come and say hi," Dad said.

"You were right, sweetheart," Mom added, smiling. "I guess we have our name."

I remembered my conversation with them weeks earlier, and the favor I'd asked them. I tried to swallow the sudden lump in my throat.

Tentatively, I moved away from the door and came to where my mother lay with the tiny bundle in her arms. My father was sitting beside the bed, unable to tear his eyes away from either of them. My heart fluttering, I leaned over and peered down at my brand new sister. The words 'beautiful' and 'perfect' immediately came to mind. Every reservation and doubt that I'd harbored was gone in an instant.

Without conscious thought, I reached down and pressed my finger into her tiny hand. She immediately gripped it, eyes shut tight and smiling in that brief but wonderful way that babies are never aware of.

And that was all it took for me to fall in love.

Only minutes before I'd been concerned about tantrums and fighting. Now all I thought about was caring and protection. Nothing in the world would tear me away from her.

"Hey Evie," I said softly. "Welcome to the family."

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**Epilogue**

This is what the world looks like through the eyes of a Hero.

It's a battlefield. It's a potential and constant Ground Zero. It's a struggle, in an eternal effort to contain the evil that poisons the world. We are heartened by the smiles of those we save, and haunted by the eyes of those we couldn't.

At Sky High, we are taught the basics- how to use our abilities, how to fight; keeping our heads in tense scenarios and saving the world. We learn our catch phrases and how to address the press. We are told to expect victories and awards, injuries and defeat and for some of us, death.

What they don't tell us is what to expect on the _inside_.

No one tells us the war we'll wage with our own conscience, our sense of self, or even our sanity. They decided to let us figure that out on our own.

Every victory and every defeat changes us little by little until the person we were at graduation bears little resemblance to who we are now.

But there's more to the experience. We are shaped in other ways- with every punch we throw, every wound we receive, every person who thanks or curses us. Love and hatred tear at us and give our lives new dimensions. If we're strong enough, we become more fragile because of it. And with that fragility comes a choice; to grow cold and embittered... or kinder.

For most of my life I didn't understand the full importance of my life's dream. I'd always thought being a Hero meant saving the world and defeating villains. But I've come to realize it's so much more than that.

Being a Hero means _being a part of what you're fighting for_.

And now for the first time, I am. I know now that it's not always about me- it almost never is. There are other stories and other losses in this world. My life, my existence, is only a few pages in the story of the war of good against evil. But a few pages is not a bad thing, is it?

I listen to the city's ills on a simple police radio. Soon, I hear of a hostage situation at a nearby daycare. It hits so much closer to home for me now- little Evie will be starting pre-school in a few months.

I jump to my feet and grab my silver shield.

It's time to be a Hero.

**The End**


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